


A Scorched Yet Seeking Heart

by FrEShAVocaNoob



Series: Of Broken, Blazing Wings [2]
Category: Batman (Comics), Red Hood and the Outlaws (Comics), X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Background canon pairings, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Cry for Justice Never Happened, Gen, New 52 but not really, One-time casual Roy Harper/Koriand'r, Temporary Character Death, no beta we die like robins, read the first story first
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-08
Updated: 2021-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:22:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 74,904
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27461146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FrEShAVocaNoob/pseuds/FrEShAVocaNoob
Summary: Jason is fine. He's home. He's safe. His family wants him around. He's getting therapy. The Phoenix is gone. He's normal. He's supposed to be fine. This is supposed to be happily ever after.But Jason has never been fine a day in his life, happily ever after is for fairy tales, and old ghosts, nightmares, and habits follow him as closely and inescapably as his own shadow. Maybe he can find escape in new friends, adventures, and mistakes. He hopes so. It couldn't go worse than last time.Right?
Series: Of Broken, Blazing Wings [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1956610
Comments: 91
Kudos: 188





	1. Old Habits and New Mistakes

Jason was getting to know his therapist’s office far too well. This time, it only took him two minutes to catalogue everything of note. That left him with fifty-eight minutes without any good distractions from talking about his feelings. Great.

“Has your sister gone back to Hong Kong yet?” Doctor Adrian asked.

Jason nodded. “Yeah. She left a couple days ago.” With Bruce and Tim back, and Jason and Damian making good on all those promises about not killing people (so far, anyway), Cass had finally felt that things were stable enough for her to go back to being an independent adult with a city of her own to protect. Jason hoped it turned out better for her than it had for Dick.

“How do you feel about it?”

Jason shrugged and fixed his gaze on the wall. It was way easier to express himself to a wall than a person, plus the helmet meant the Doc wouldn’t notice. “I mean… not great? In case you haven’t noticed, I’m not exactly the best at talking about emotional shit. It was nice to have someone around who could tell without me telling them. Y’know?”

“You can still talk to her,” Adrian assured him. “You’ll just have to make sure to keep time zones in mind. Though I understand that it’s not quite the same.”

Jason nodded. He couldn’t bring himself to say that a video call couldn’t emulate a hug or reassuring shoulder pat, nor allow Cass to get everyone to leave him alone when their presence made him want to scream yet past, painful experience refused to allow him to admit such weakness. He couldn’t admit that, not even to the wall.

Adrian could tell the topic was exhausted, so they changed it. “So, have you made any progress on finding a school to get your GED?”

Okay. This was a lot more manageable. He finally looked back at them and said, “Yes and no. I’ve found one that seems legit enough to give some decent education and shady enough to not look too closely at ID. But…” Shit. Time to talk to the wall again. “I don’t think I’ll sign up for a while, though.”

“Why not?”

Jason drummed his fingers on his knee while he tried to wrangle his thoughts into coherence. “I guess… I’m thinking that at some point I’ll want to be legally alive again, right? As myself. If I use a fake ID to get my degree, I’d just have to do it all over again once I was publicly me again. Seems like a waste. But I really don’t wanna deal with…”

He caught himself before he said anything incriminating. No secret identities. That was the rule with these therapy appointments. Even if B had gone through every therapist’s history with a fine-toothed comb and J’onn had gone through their minds just as diligently, it was better safe than sorry.

So, no narrowing the search by mentioning the Batfamily’s secret identities were smack dab in the middle of the public eye. Instead, he said, “For classified reasons, it’d be a real pain.”

“I see,” said Adrian. “Do you have any plans for what you will do until then?”

Jason shrugged again. “Not really. B’s letting me do some research and mission control stuff, so that’s something, I guess. And I’ve still got a lot of media that came out while I was dead to catch up on. B’s got enough money for me to mooch off him for the foreseeable future.” More like for ten lifetimes, but again, no search narrowing.

“There’s nothing wrong with taking a break to let yourself recharge,” said Adrian. “Maybe you could use this time to expand your horizons. Find new hobbies. Learn a new language. Get in contact with old friends.”

“Maybe,” said Jason noncommittally. He did hate feeling like he was just sitting idle twiddling his thumbs, and learning new languages was fun (and frustrating, but it was easy enough to forget about those parts once you were fluent). Friends, though? He wasn’t sure he’d had any even back when he was in the Robin tights. The closest thing he had was Kid Devil, and that was mostly just sending each other memes and complaining about their mentors. He could count the number of times they actually physically met on one hand.

Adrian seemed to realize that that was all the emotional bullshit he could handle in a day without breaking anything, so he was able to spend the rest of the appointment ranting about the Hobbit trilogy and Game of Thrones finales. Those _deserved_ to be talked about in therapy. They would have been seriously traumatizing if his trauma tolerance weren’t so fucked.

* * *

Another thing Jason was getting to know well was the sound of family members knocking on his bedroom door. He was getting pretty good at distinguishing everyone’s distinctive styles.

This particular one had been three sharp knocks in quick succession. Not too much force behind it. Probably Damian.

“Come on in,” Jason called out, voice dripping with annoyance as he grabbed a bookmark. This conversation was already practically guaranteed to be aggravating. No need to add losing his place to the aggravation pile.

Damian entered the room and closed the door behind him. Jason tried to relish the moment of being right before the brat could ruin it by talking.

And ruin it he did. “Has Mother contacted you?” he asked harshly. Too harshly. He was trying to compensate for vulnerability.

Jason threw the book to the side and rose from the bed, steeling himself for an even more difficult conversation than expected. “Nope. If she had, you would’ve heard the swearing.”

Damian clucked his tongue disapprovingly. “With an attitude like that, no wonder she wants nothing to do with you anymore.”

“Great, because I want nothing to do with her,” Jason snapped. “Sounds like a great arrangement.”

“Have you forgotten everything she did for you?” Damian demanded, stomping closer and drawing himself up to his full height (which, while tall for his age, was still nowhere near intimidating).

Jason rolled his eyes. “Oh, you mean like when she threw multiple knives at my head to test my powers? Or how she kept me isolated from everyone I cared about to make sure I was under her thumb? Or how about the way she never told me you existed? Gee, when you put it that way, let me call her up right now.”

“If you hated her so much, then why didn’t you leave the moment you could?”

God damnit. Wasn’t arguing with kids supposed to be easy? Why did they have to come up with good points that were difficult to argue with without admitting something you didn’t want to admit to even yourself? Such as, hypothetically, a certain Assassin managing to activate the dusty response in Jason’s brain labelled _Mom_ , despite all her flaws. It wasn’t like the other women with that response had done a great job, either.

Time for an argument tactic Damian hopefully wasn’t as wise to yet; Deflection. “I dunno, if you love her so much, why didn’t you run away from here the moment you could?” he asked.

Damian glowered silently for a moment before stomping back towards the door, grumbling to himself in Arabic too quietly and indistinctly for Jason to make out. He doubted it was anything nice, though.

Jason would very much like to just let him leave and go back to his book. But he was trying to be a better person and a better brother and all that shit, so he couldn’t do that without getting chewed out by the little Bruce that lived in his head for the sole purpose of disapproving of him. Ugh.

Jason darted in front of Damian and stood in the doorway. His new life of semi-leisure had lost him some muscle (or maybe that brickhouse physique was only thanks to subconscious telekinesis), but he could still easily block Damian’s path.

“All right, how about we handle this down in the Batcave like civilized vigilantes?” he asked, looking down at Damian with as patronizing a smirk as he could muster.

Damian’s eyes brightened to a cruelly joyful gleam. “Very well. Do not expect me to hold back. No missions will be inconvenienced by any of _your_ broken bones.”

Jason doubted he’d actually go that far – even demon brats were vulnerable to Dick Grayson’s patented puppy-dog eyes of disappointment – but still vowed not to hold back, either, as they made their way down to the Batcave. Or, at least, not _consciously_ hold back. There was still a part of his brain that looked at Damian and labelled him _Innocent Child, Must Protect._ A very stupid part that would probably get him killed by some child assassin at some point.

The Cave was empty, as expected. Bruce and Tim were doing corporate bullshit, Dick was on a mission Jason wasn’t allowed to know the details of, Alfred was waging war against the dandelions in the garden, and Steph was… Jason didn’t actually know what Steph was doing. Probably something college-related, or somewhat-decently-adjusted-adult-related.

Jason stepped onto the sparring mat and began to stretch. “Suits or no?” he asked.

Damian made a beeline for the weapons rack as he said, “You do not have a suit anymore, Todd. Unless you’ve been keeping secrets from us.”

“Me? Keep secrets? Never.” He made sure not to let his eyes flicker towards the locker he had some spare body armor and weapons hidden inside. “And no weapons.”

Damian pouted, but he put the sword back on the rack and walked over to the mat. “Are you ready?”

Jason leaned down to touch his toes, ears peeled for the slightest sound of Damian taking advantage of his exposed back. “My apologies for not wanting to deal with any pulled muscles because _somebody_ couldn’t wait five minutes.”

“You don’t have time to stretch in a real fight. The whole point of training is to prepare ourselves for such situations.”

Jason straightened back up and stretched his arms above his head. “In a real fight, we also don’t have to worry about getting lectured on not properly preparing.” He paused, rethinking that line of logic. “Actually, no, they’d definitely lecture us for that. But it’d be _way_ worse if we had ample time and opportunity to stretch and didn’t because you’re trying to be tough.”

“I _am_ tough,” Damian objected, voice straining to seem intimidating and not, you know, belonging to a ten-year-old. “And trained earlier, so I am already-“

Jason swung his leg in a kick directly at Damian’s head. He ducked just in time and grabbed Jason’s ankle. Whether he was merely going to try and throw Jason off-balance or full-on break his ankle, they would never know, because Jason hopped on his other foot and used it to sweep Damian’s legs out from under him before he hit the ground. Damian tried to roll away, but Jason was faster, pulling him into a headlock.

“You were saying?” Jason asked smugly.

“You cheated!” Damian snarled, squirming around and trying in vain to escape.

“You’re the one that wanted to replicate a real fight. Monologuing’s a bad idea, kiddo.”

Damian glared at him with the fire of a thousand suns and tapped out. Jason released him, and they both rose to their feet. Damian waited approximately sixteen milliseconds before he went in for round two.

What he lacked in size and experience, the kid more than made up for with ferocity. He actually bit Jason. Several times. And he did win a couple rounds fair and square. Jason tried to put those losses down to still adjusting to being powerless, even though that excuse was getting less and less believable over time. He’d lost track of how long it had been since he last got what he’d started thinking of as ‘empty’ headaches. He might actually be able to convince B to let him back out on patrol before he died of old age.

Thanks to a shared loathing of admitting defeat, stubbornness, and high pain tolerance, they were still sparring when the Batcomputer let out a beep.

Not even Damian was bloodthirsty enough to ignore a call on the Batcomputer, so with a look that promised they’d continue this later and he would _definitely_ claim victory (yup, absolutely, no doubt about it, no sirree), he went over to one of the training dummies while Jason went to the computer.

There was an incoming call from Troia. Jason hit the button to accept it and said, “The Bat is out right now, please leave a message after the tone.”

Donna sighed. “Damn it. Has Nightwing come back yet?”

“Nope. And Red Robin and Batgirl aren’t around, either.”

“Shit. Though… Do you think you could – No. Never mind. Forget it. I’ll call someone else.”

Jason sat down in the Batchair. “Hold on, now you’ve got me intrigued. What’s up?”

Donna hesitated. It wasn’t a video call, so he couldn’t read her expression to see what was going on in her head. Eventually, she said, “It’s probably nothing. Arsenal’s just got a bad feeling about his current mission and he wants somebody to keep an eye on his… place.”

Jason only puzzled over that for a moment before realizing he’d need some more puzzle pieces. “I’ve been a little out of the superhero loop. Who’s Arsenal?”

“It’s Red Arrow’s new name,” Donna explained. “Well, old name, technically, but you know what I mean.”

Oh. Roy. Why would he be so worried about his – Oh, right. He had a kid. Donna was just sticking to the Justice League communication guidelines of giving as little personal information as possible.

“Where’s his place?” Jason asked.

“Star City.”

“Then why not call one of the other Arrows?” Yeah, sure, Jason knew Roy and Oliver were still rocky (or, at least, he assumed so, because holy shit Ollie fucked up with Roy), but there was no way Green Arrow would let a kid get hurt if he could help it, especially when it was his kinda-sorta-granddaughter.

“I tried. They’re undercover right now, and people could get hurt if they pull out now.”

Jason knew he should just say ‘Ah, well, good luck with that,’ and hang up. Leave the superheroing to the professionals. Go back to his happy, peaceful, safe life.

 _Or, in other words, your boring, empty existence full of dread and anxiety while you wait for the other shoe to drop. Because the other shoe_ always _drops._

“I can do it.” The words tumbled out of his mouth with the speed and recklessness of a car driving off a cliff. But once they were out, he couldn’t take them back. Well, he _could_ , but he wouldn’t. He just hoped the metaphorical car wasn’t a Pinto that would explode on impact.

“What?” Donna asked, alarmed. “No, you don’t have to. I’ll find someone else. You should-“

“If I have to spend one more night sitting on my ass doing nothing, I’m going to stab someone.” It was only a _slight_ exaggeration. “Besides, you said it was probably nothing. I’ll just order some pizza and watch Disney movies with… the place until Arsenal’s paranoia dies down.”

Donna was silent for a solid thirty seconds as she thought it over. Finally, she sighed again and said, “Fine. But if _anything_ happens, you call someone. I’ll text you the password so the nanny trusts you.”

“Don’t you mean ‘the janitor’ or whatever?”

“You’re very lucky I can’t smack you from here.” She paused, and when she spoke again, her voice was far softer. “Just… be careful, okay? I don’t know what any of us would do if you got hurt.”

Lucky her. Jason knew exactly how everyone would react, and the prospect was bad enough to nearly make him take it back and lock himself inside a secure cell for the rest of his life to make sure it never happened.

“I’ll be fine,” he said. He’d seen some stuff online about speaking things into existence. It seemed like a load of bullshit to him, but hey, you never know.

“You’d better be,” she warned before ending the call.

Jason was spared from having to think about what he’d just done by the sound of Damian clearing his throat.

He spun around in the chair to look at him. His stomach sank when he took in his smug expression.

“I think Father and Grayson would be very interested in hearing about this and coming to stop you as soon as possible, don’t you?” the brat asked airily.

Jason sighed. “Name your price.”

“You shall escort me to one R-rated movie of my choice and not tell Father or Grayson of it.”

“B’s _still_ weird about movies?” Jason shook his head in disbelief. How could a person be fine with letting his kids witness the worst of real-life humanity on a nightly basis, yet adamantly refuse to let them see the fictional version? “And Dick’s getting in on it now? Fucking hypocrite.”

“What do you mean?” Damian asked, both annoyed at someone insulting his precious Grayson and intrigued by the history behind said insult.

“He used to take me to R-rated movies whenever he wanted brownie points with me. Guess we’re continuing the family tradition.”

Jason’s phone beeped. He checked and saw a text from Donna telling him the password, address, and what Lian’s (right, that was the name) favorite movies and kind of pizza were.

“Duty calls.” For a moment, he considered trying to ruffle Damian’s hair, but he was currently holding a sword, so losing a hand was a serious possibility. He settled for saying, “Plus the prospect of dealing with a child that _isn’t_ a demon in human skin.”

It was a testament to Damian’s growth that he made the sword swing as easily dodged as it was.

* * *

It was amazing how easy travel became when you had access to teleporters. Once upon a time, he would’ve had to navigate a poorly designed website to order a plane ticket, get to the airport without Bruce noticing, go through all the kerfuffle of sneaking at least one gun through security, then sit on a plane with nothing to do but think about what a stupid choice he’d made. Now, with teleporters, he could condense all the self-flagellation down to about five minutes.

His brain made the most of those five minutes.

What the fuck was he doing? He was supposed to be better. He was supposed to have learned his lesson after the Phoenix. He was supposed to look before he leapt, think things through, leave things to the professionals, not just throw himself in head-first the second it looked like somebody might be in danger. It wasn’t like he was the only one that could babysit Lian. Every single current or former member of the Titans and most of the Justice League would be more than happy to do it, and the chances of every single one of them being caught up in life-threatening missions were astronomical. Why was he like this? What was wrong with him? Why couldn’t he –

A car horn blared. He blinked and remembered, oh right, he was walking through a busy city street and needed to pay attention before he got pickpocketed or run over.

 _It’s probably nothing,_ he reminded himself, taking a deep breath of not-quite-clean-but-better-than-Gotham air. _Just eat pizza, watch movies, and try not to swear._

Roy’s apartment wasn’t too far from the Star City teleporter. Hell, that was probably part of the reason he’d chosen it. So, it took Jason slightly less time to walk there than it would have taken for him to change his mind, tell Donna never mind, and go right on back to Gotham.

He knocked on the door and checked his phone again to make sure he had the right address and the right password. Through the door, he could hear approaching footsteps, though too muffled for him to be able to discern anything from the sound. He was able to discern slightly more from the scraping sound of something being dragged across the floor, but only that it sounded like a piece of furniture being moved rather than a body.

Eventually, an extremely young-sounding voice asked, “Who are you?”

Jason’s detective programming booted up and went to work. Why was Lian answering the door? Wasn’t it basic nanny etiquette to make sure the kid you were looking after had as little interaction with strangers as possible? Was something up after all?

He shook himself. No use letting paranoia overwhelm him until he had more evidence. Once he had that, and he was sure he could let his guard down for a minute or so, he could freak out all he wanted. At the moment, it was best that he say, as quietly as he could while still being heard through the door, “I’m Jason, Dick’s brother. Flugelhorn.”

One faint thump and a little more scraping later, the door opened, revealing Lian, staring up at him with curious brown eyes so big and innocent it should really be illegal. “Uncle Dick’s brother? Does that mean you’re my uncle, too?”

Jason stepped inside and locked the door behind him. “I don’t think it works that way,” he said as he gave the room a scan. Not much to speak of. Just a standard living room/dining room/kitchen area like most non-palatial apartments had. The only really notable thing was that one of the chairs was next to the door instead of at the table. Lian must have dragged it over to stand on so she could look through the peephole.

Oh, wait, there was another notable thing. Or, rather, a notable absence.

“Aren’t you supposed to have a babysitter?” he asked.

Lian frowned in confusion. “She had to leave. She said she’d call someone else. Isn’t that you?”

 _It’s probably nothing,_ he tried to assure himself. _She could be dealing with a family emergency. The fact that she’s gone the same day Roy got a bad feeling is most likely a coincidence. The replacement is probably already on their way. Once they’re here, you can go back to Gotham and be a good, normal, non-threatening boy._

He wasn’t sure how to explain the situation without getting her worried about her dad, so he shrugged and said, “I guess I am.”

“Okay,” said Lian, before grabbing the chair and dragging it back to the table.

Jason was momentarily flummoxed. He hadn’t expected her to accept things so easily. He’d been spending so much time around Damian that he’d forgotten how a normal child was supposed to behave. Well, as normal as a child could be when her dad was a superhero and her mom was a supervillain.

While he stood there trying to compute how to function in a normal social situation, Lian sat at the table in front of a piece of paper and a pile of markers. She picked up a marker and began to draw.

While she focused on that, Jason went around as quietly and unnoticeably as he could and checked every entrance, exit, and good spot for a hidden camera/listening device he could fine. He found firm locks on all the former two and nothing but dust and spiderwebs in the latter. He still felt tense and paranoid and found his hand flying to his gun at every flicker of movement out of the corner of his eye, but it was something, at least.

He walked back into the main room. Lian was still drawing and in seemed in no danger of stabbing herself in the eye or anything, so Jason went over to check the fridge. There was a decent amount of food in it. Technically, Jason should probably make something healthy for dinner. There were more than enough ingredients for it. Lian was a growing girl and needed nutrition and all that. But he’d gotten his hopes up for pizza, and it wouldn’t hurt to get on Lian’s good side as the fun maybe-uncle.

He closed the fridge and walked closer to Lian. For the first time, he actually looked at what she was drawing. It was… vaguely humanoid. That was about all he could make out. “Whatcha drawing?” he asked, taking a seat next to her.

She looked up with a guilty expression, eyes darting around to make sure no eavesdroppers had spontaneously manifested in the room. “Don’t tell Daddy,” she warned, pushing the paper towards him. “It’s my super-costume.”

Jason looked it over again. If he tilted his head at the right angle and squinted, he guessed it kind of looked like a superhero outfit. Not that he’d say that out loud. The world would crush her dreams in due time, no need to speed up the process. “Cool. You wanna be a superhero?”

She bit her lip thoughtfully and fiddled with one of her pigtails. “I dunno. It seems cool, and Daddy and everyone help a lot of people, but Daddy doesn’t want me to. And he has to go away and get hurt a lot. And if I fight bad guys, I’d have to fight Mommy. I know she’s bad, but she’s still Mommy.”

Jason wasn’t sure how to feel about the fact that a small child (How old was she, again? Six?) had a much more mature understanding of the dangers of being a superhero than he had when he was eleven. Hell, it was probably a better viewpoint than the one he had right now. So, he chose not to think about it.

“You don’t have to decide anything yet,” he said, sliding the drawing back over to her. “Right now, you can play pretend and only fight imaginary bad guys. Have you come up with a super-name yet?”

Lian’s troubled frown morphed into one of frustration. “No. I can’t think of any good new ones.”

“Maybe you can take an old one, then,” Jason suggested. “Or you can be the next one of a good one, like Speedy.”

Lian made a noise of disgust. “Speedy’s a dumb name!”

Jason grinned and opened his mouth to agree, momentarily forgetting about all the stress and worries surrounding his reasons for being here, just enjoying the conversation. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d said more than a dozen words to someone who wasn’t his family, his therapist, or a nosy Justice Leaguer making sure he wasn’t about to … to fall back on old habits.

Obviously, that was the moment someone knocked on the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back, everyone! I hope you enjoy this story as much as you did the first one.  
> We're gonna be straying pretty far from canon with this one. The way I see it, canon is a graveyard and I'm Victor Frankenstein with a shovel. I take the parts I like and sew them together into an unholy abomination. So if I mess up timelines or anything, it's totally on purpose, not just me not remembering and being too lazy to look it up. Absolutely.  
> Thank you for reading, and I hope to see you again next week!


	2. To Protect and Serve

It was both useful and tremendously sad that Lian was able to instantly tell that this was not a promising knock, or at least not one promising anything good.

“Should I get my go bag?” she asked. Roy must have drilled the procedure for this sort of situation real deep in her head for her to be so calm about it.

“Yeah,” said Jason, getting to his feet. “And stay in your room until I get you or tell you to run, okay?”

Lian nodded, grabbed her drawing and markers, and hurried away.

Jason took a deep breath, patted himself down to make sure all his weapons were still there, and went to the door. He looked through the peephole and saw a woman standing in the hall. She was dressed like a perfectly ordinary young adult doing babysitting to put herself through college. No ordinary college student would be standing so rigidly, though. Nor would they have a gun-shaped bulge in their jacket (not in this state, anyway).

“What?” he called out, doing his best to sound annoyed at being bothered but not actually threatened.

The woman was surprised for a brief moment. She recovered quickly, slouching into a more casual posture and looking righteously concerned as she demanded, “Who are you? Where’s Lian?”

“Relax, she’s in her room. You the babysitter?”

“Yes. Who are you?”

“A friend of a friend of her dad. He was feeling paranoid and I was in the neighborhood, so I stopped by to check on her.”

The suspicion in the woman’s eyes was far too convincing to be entirely faked. “Which friend do you have in common?”

“Classified,” Jason deadpanned. “Now do you know the password or not? I’ve got shit to do.”

“How about you say it first?” The woman’s eyes were sharp and hard. Good. He was annoying her. Anger made people stupid. He knew from first-hand experience. “Harper doesn’t seem like the kind of guy to leave a friend of a friend alone with his daughter.”

 _Yeah, and I’m sure he’d_ definitely _trust_ you _, a complete stranger,_ Jason thought to himself. Out loud, he said, “I’m already inside, and Lian isn’t dead yet, so I think I’m good. You go first.”

She rolled her eyes. “Fine. Flugelhorn. Can I come in now?”

“You forgot the magic word,” Jason said in a sing-song voice.

He didn’t need telepathy to know she was considering just kicking the door down and shooting him then and there. Carefulness won out, though, so she hissed through gritted teeth, “Please.”

He swung the door open and smirked at her. “There. Was that so hard.”

She glared at him and walked inside. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her reaching for her gun as she passed him.

As fast as he could, he kicked the door shut again, pulled his own out, and aimed it right between her eyes. “Don’t even think about it,” he growled.

She already had her gun about halfway into position before she froze. If she shot him right now, it’d hit him in the abdomen. It’d hurt like hell, and even if he got medical attention before he bled out it could cause permanent damage if it hit any important organs, but it wouldn’t kill him right away. He’d be able to call for backup and get Lian to safety. Meanwhile, if he shot her right now, she’d be dead. He had the upper hand, meager as it was.

“I don’t know who you think you are, but it would be in your best interests to walk away now,” she said.

“Bold of you to assume I’ve got my best interests at heart,” Jason replied.

If the woman was thrown by his comment, she didn’t let it show. She did, however, take a few moments before she said, “If you don’t care about your own interests, then do you care about Lian’s? I don’t want to hurt her. I’m a federal agent. Her father’s made some dangerous enemies, and even more dangerous friends. I’m here to take her into protective custody.”

She didn’t seem to be lying. She definitely wasn’t telling the whole truth, but she wasn’t lying. Or maybe Jason’s ability to read people was forever crippled by the empty hole in his brain where telepathy used to be. But even if she was being truthful… “Well then why didn’t you open with that instead of lying and trying to pull a gun on me?”

Her eyes darted around the room, looking for some sort of advantage.

He realized he didn’t have time for this. If she was really a federal agent, then there were probably other agents standing by to swoop in if things went wrong. Answers could wait. The most important thing right now was getting Lian out of here. Something was clearly seriously fucked up here, and Jason trusted Roy with his daughter’s safety way more than a stranger poised to shoot him, no matter how truthful she might be.

“Never mind,” he said. “Put the gun down. Now.”

Her eyes narrowed as she scrutinized his face like… well… like she was seeing if he was going to actually kill her. He wouldn’t. But he _would_ shoot her in one of the fragile, delicate, unfixable parts of her arm, permanently damaging it and ruining any future career in a combat role. She must have seen it in his expression, because she slowly placed the gun on the floor, stepped away from it, and put her hands in the air.

“You’re very loyal for just a friend of a friend,” she said, eyes still roving over his face, as if memorizing every last detail so she could pass it on to a composite sketch artist.

Jason shrugged as he stepped closer, gun still trained on her, and pulled some zip-ties out of his pocket. “Eh, it’s less loyalty, more just general problems with authority. Sit in the chair, hands behind your back.”

She did so, expression perfectly blank as he tied her to the chair, securely enough that she couldn’t escape and so that it cut off just enough blood flow to make her uncomfortable.

With her taken care of, he put his gun away and knocked on Lian’s door. “It’s okay, you can come out now.”

She opened the door quickly, ready to go with her backpack. She leaned around him to look curiously at the woman.

He grabbed her hand and tugged her along as quickly as he could without her tripping. “Come on. We need to go.”

To his surprise, she didn’t ask anything as they hurried out of the apartment, or while they went down the stairs (if the feds were involved, them cutting power to the elevator wasn’t out of the equation), or when they slowed down on the street to try and blend into the crowd. Jason sent a silent thanks to Grandpa Todd for marrying Grandma Todd, a Chinese woman, ensuring that any passersby who gave the two of them a second glance could reasonably assume they were related and thus not suspicious. Hooray for white people never bothering to learn the difference between Asian ethnicities.

The silence gave him room to think. To figure out where the fuck he was supposed to go. At first, he tried to head for the teleporter, but there was a police car parked right outside the office building it was hidden in. Could just be coincidence, but he couldn’t risk it. Not with Lian. He turned right back around and got to planning again.

Lian finally spoke up. “Where are we going?” she asked, just barely loud enough to be heard over the sounds of traffic.

“I’m not sure,” he said honestly. However, he _did_ have some ideas. “Do you know the way to Oliver’s?”

He was busy scanning the crowd, so he didn’t see her eyes light up, but he could hear it in her voice as she said, “We’re going to Grandpa Ollie’s?”

Was that guy pushing a covered stroller following them? Was it just Jason’s paranoid imagination that made it seem like the woman in a business suit was looking at them way too much? “Maybe. I’d rather not risk getting followed there, but if we have to…”

“Grandpa Ollie can deal with it,” Lian declared with the full confidence.

“Just because he can, doesn’t mean he should have to,” Jason replied. Also, if Jason brought the feds to Oliver Queen’s doorstep and blew a huge hole in his secret identity, Bruce was going to ground him for the rest of his life, and Diana and Clark would be disappointed in him, which was even worse. Also also, fuck Ollie. Jason would rather eat nails than have to rely on his protection.

“Okay,” said Lian, and she didn’t question him any further. It seemed like she completely trusted him to make the right decisions and keep her safe. He didn’t know what to do with the feelings that idea brought up, so he ignored them and focused on keeping watch.

Okay, stroller-guy was _definitely_ following them. Well, okay, _maybe_ it was all a coincidence and he was just out for an aimless wander with his baby, but Jason wasn’t risking it. There was a crosswalk coming up, and the light had just turned green. He hadn’t been paying close attention to how long the traffic lights around here stayed green, but he guessed it was about thirty seconds. They were approximately twenty-five seconds away from the crosswalk, if they kept walking. Stroller-guy was a few seconds behind. If they started running now, stroller-guy would pick up the pace, too, and most likely make it in time to cross the street. So, if they walked to the light, then ran across the street, they _should_ be able to lose him long enough to duck into an alley and grapple onto a roof.

He squeezed Lian’s hand and murmured, “Get ready to run.”

Lian nodded and squeezed back, expression resolute.

Jason’s math was off. The countdown on the crossing light started earlier than he’d expected. But he couldn’t tip his hand and let stroller-guy know that he was going to cross now. So, he kept walking. When he reached the crosswalk, there were only two seconds left.

 _Fuck it,_ he thought to himself. He made sure that he was between Lian and the oncoming cars and ran as fast as he could while dragging along someone with tiny baby legs.

Unsurprisingly, they did not make it in two seconds. But the drivers were kind enough not to run over pedestrians, no matter how stupid they were, albeit not without some honks and rude gestures. Once they were across, Jason glanced back and saw stroller-guy safely on the other side. He didn’t dare look long enough to determine what the look on his face meant.

He quickly spotted an appropriate alleyway and ducked in, crouching behind a convenient dumpster. “I’m going to grapple us up to the roof,” he told Lian as he pulled out his grappling hook. “Hold on tight.”

She grinned as he picked her up, wrapping her arms around his neck tightly as he straightened up and calculated the best angle. With one last glance at the street to make sure nobody was paying attention, he shot the grapple and flew up to the roof, wind whistling past his ears and nearly snatching away the sound of Lian’s excited giggling.

The landing was a little awkward. As light as Lian was, she still threw his center of balance off and made him stumble a little before he found his feet. Once he was sure he wouldn’t fall over and squash her, rendering this entire exercise pointless, he retracted the grapple and put her down.

He gave the roof a quick scan. No visible cameras. Hopefully they could take a minute or two to catch their breath and think things through.

Lian bounced on her toes, still grinning. “That was cool! What do we do now?”

That was the question, wasn’t it? Jason pulled out his phone to check exactly how to get to Queen Manor or whatever it was actually called. He was looking for the app when he remembered that he was supposed to call Donna if anything happened. This definitely counted as anything.

He dialled the number and paced while it rang, trying to release some of the nervous energy consuming him.

“Who are you calling?” Lian asked.

“Donna,” Jason replied.

“Ooh, can I talk to her?”

Donna picked up before Jason had to find a nice, kid-friendly way to say he was a little fucking preoccupied right now.

Donna greeted him with a slightly out of breath, “Are you at the apartment?”

“Nope,” said Jason. “We are currently hiding from the feds on a rooftop. It’s been a while since I babysat anyone, but I’m assuming this is not normal.”

“Fuck,” Donna hissed.

“What’s a fed?” Lian asked.

Jason moved the mic away from his mouth and said, “I’ll explain later. I need to talk with Donna right now, okay?”

Lian pouted, but she nodded and took a seat, pulling a notebook and pencil case from her bag to continue drawing.

Donna took a deep breath and released a rush of static. She sounded a lot calmer when she spoke again, though Jason suspected it was forced. “Roy was right. Somebody set him up. The entrance his intel said was unguarded turned out to be _very_ guarded. Starfire was able to get him out before… This isn’t on speakerphone, right?”

“No,” said Jason, keeping his voice and expression as untroubled as he could. Lian looked pretty focused on her drawing, but kids always picked up on more than they should.

“Good. Starfire got him out of there before their ‘interrogation’ got too far. They’re flying back to Star City right now. Should be there soon. Where are you, exactly?”

Jason’s first instinct was to go to the edge of the roof and check for street signs and addresses. Then he remembered that it was broad daylight, people around here probably weren’t as inured to seeing people dramatically standing on rooftops as they were in Gotham, and he was trying to be noticed as little as possible. Instead, he just opened up Google Maps and told her the address it told him he was at.

“All right,” said Donna. “I’ll pass it on. Hold on a second.”

Jason went back to pacing, keeping a close eye on Lian as he did so. She looked up from her notebook and asked, “Are you done talking?”

Jason shook his head. “No, she’s just telling your dad and Starfire where to pick us up.”

Lian’s eyes lit up. “Are they going to pick us up in her spaceship?”

Jason wondered how to say no without crushing her dreams, then realized that, actually, they _were_ probably going to fly over in a spaceship. Any other method besides teleportation would be way too risky with somebody on the government’s shit list. “Probably.”

Before Lian could say anything else, Donna came back on the line. “They’re on their way. Are you _sure_ it’s the feds after you?”

Jason held up a finger to quiet Lian and said, “Sorry, I was a little busy trying to not get shot to check her ID. She thought she was a federal agent, at least.”

“Are you sure? You can’t read minds anymore,” Donna reminded him.

“Yeah, I’ve noticed,” Jason snapped. “I can still read faces, though, and she was pretty convinced.”

Donna was silent for a moment, probably internally debating whether it was worth getting into an argument with him over it. Luckily, she decided against it. “You can talk with Roy and Kori about it when they get there. Until then, keep your head down.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Jason glanced back at Lian and realized he’d let the mask slip. She was looking worried now. He should do something about that. “Hey, you wanna talk to Lian before you go?”

“Did she hear you ask that?” Donna asked.

“Yup,” said Jason, matching Lian’s grin with a smirk of his own.

“Then yes, I suppose I do,” Donna grumbled.

Jason handed the phone to Lian and shifted his focus back to keeping watch. So long as he could hear Lian’s voice, he could afford to turn his back on her. He mostly tuned what she actually said out. The fewer distractions, the better. His brain already felt taut and sizzling like a telephone wire, ready to snap and overwhelm him if he put a foot wrong.

Now that he had a second to breathe, he couldn’t ignore his stupid, useless thoughts anymore. Thoughts like, _Great, now the government knows my face and probably want to see it in prison._ Or, _You should’ve let someone else do this. You’re going to mess it up._ Or, _Bruce is going to be so fucking pissed at you._ Or, _What if they go through camera footage and find your face in Gotham? What if they see you with Dick or Steph or Cass or Babs or Alfie and go after them and figure out everyone’s secret identities and it’s all your fault?_

Useless. Stupid. Not fucking helpful right now. And yet they still refused to shut up.

“I’m done!” Lian called out. Jason turned and saw her holding his phone out to him.

“Thanks,” he said, taking it from her.

She stared up at him thoughtfully. “You don’t look much like Uncle Dick.”

“We’re adopted,” Jason explained.

“Oh. By Batman, right?”

Jason nodded. “Yup. All of us are, except for the new Robin.”

Lian stared at him a little while longer before she spoke again. “Why did nobody ever talk about you? They talk about Batman’s other kids.”

For a moment, Jason wished he were talking to an adult, or at least a teenager, so that he could guiltlessly tell them to fuck off and never bring it up again unless they wanted to get stabbed. But he wasn’t. She was just a kid and didn’t know any better. From the sounds of it, she’d had a pretty happy life so far, and wouldn’t understand how some things were too painful to even talk about.

“I died when you were really little,” he said out loud. “I came back, but they didn’t find out until pretty recently.”

“Why didn’t you tell them you were back?” Lian asked. It was a testament to how common death and resurrection had become in the superhero community that _that_ was the part she questioned.

Jason scanned the sky for any sign of spaceships so that he wouldn’t have to answer that question. He found only clouds and a saccharinely blue sky. “It’s complicated,” he said.

Lian rolled her eyes. “You’ll tell me when I’m older, right?”

Jason wondered how often she got told that whenever she asked about superhero stuff. “Probably not,” he said. “I don’t like talking about it regardless of age.”

“Why not?” she asked.

“I don’t want to talk about it.” He could hear some of the anger slip through the cracks in his voice, so he quickly changed the subject. “Are you still drawing your super-costume?”

“Yup!” said Lian, uncomfortable questions seemingly forgotten as she turned the sketchbook around to show him.

Jason realized she probably expected a comment from him and busied himself trying to decipher what he was looking at. That blob on top was probably a head, right? Or was it a hat? Was the blob beneath it a head or a neck? Was that a cape or a skirt? Either way, it looked terribly impractical.

“Cool,” he said, doing his very best to sound convincing. “Do you have a color scheme in mind?”

Lian’s brow furrowed in confusion. “Color scheme?”

Right. Small child. Limited vocabulary. “What colors do you want it to be?”

“Oh. I’d like red, like Daddy.”

Jason nodded. “Good choice. Great for-“ He bit his tongue before he could say _hiding bloodstains._ “Aesthetics. Strong color. Lots of red-themed names to choose from.”

Lian turned the sketchbook back around and frowned thoughtfully at the drawing. “I can’t come up with a name yet. I need to finish the outfit. And come up with a weapon.”

“You don’t want to come up with the name first and make the outfit and weapon match?” Jason asked. “So long as you’re just playing pretend, you don’t have to worry about whether or not you know how to actually use it.”

Lian gasped, eyes full of wonder as she beheld the world of possibilities before her. “Can my weapon be a dinosaur I ride around on and tell to eat people?”

“Absolutely,” said Jason. “What kind of dinosaur do you want?”

It turned out neither of them were exactly paleontologists, so they had to consult Google for dinosaur types besides T. Rex, velociraptor, and those big ones with the long necks. Lian’s excitement was so contagious Jason actually found it a little difficult not to get fully sucked into the conversation. He still had to be on the look-out, after all, and he had to make sure Lian’s excitement didn’t get too loud.

Their discussion and research were interrupted by a text message popping up on his phone from an unknown number.

_ETA 1 minute._

“What’s ‘eta’?” Lian asked.

“It means ‘estimated time of arrival’,” Jason explained, trying to hide his nerves as he handed his phone back to her. “There’s a ladder over there. If I tell you to, I need you to climb down and run as fast as you can while you call your Grandpa Ollie for help, okay?”

Lian’s expression fell. It seemed like the reality of their situation was finally hitting her. “Why do I need to call Grandpa Ollie? You’re here to help.”

 _Because if it isn’t your dad and Starfire incoming, I’m going to be too busy fighting off bad guys and quite possibly dying,_ he thought to himself. “You can never have too much help,” he said aloud.

Lian seemed to accept this, though she still looked nervous as she went over to the ladder. Jason gave her a thumbs-up and what he really hoped was a reassuring smile and not a grimace of dread.

He saw a small shape in the sky moving towards them. Sure, it _could_ have just been a bird or an ordinary airplane, but if Jason took safety for granted, he never would have survived long enough to become Robin and get killed by the Joker. He ducked behind the brick stairwell entrance and pulled out a gun, taking deep breaths and emptying his mind of everything but the mission. How many bullets he had, what direction their new flying friend was coming from, what the structural weak points on a military jet were, that sort of thing. Funny how it was only when he was in imminent mortal danger that he was able to focus on useful stuff instead of stupid shit like _I think I forgot to turn the lights off in the library when I left, clearly my family will hate me now._

He took quick peeks around the side of the wall as the mysterious aircraft drew closer. As more and more of it became visible, Jason wanted more and more to relax. It definitely looked more like an alien spaceship than a government fighter jet about to unleash a volley on the roof. But he couldn’t relax yet. You never knew if the people over at Area 51 actually had alien tech or whatever.

He only let himself breathe all the tension out when Lian ran out of position with an excited cry of, “Aunt Kori!”

Well, most of the tension, anyway. He still kept a hand close to his gun as he emerged from his hiding spot to stand next to Lian, ready to push her behind him the second he saw anything suspicious.

The ship landed lightly. Jason only felt the vibration in through his shoes because he’d trained to be able to sense that sort of thing. One of the side panels rolled down into a gangplank (if that was the right word for a spaceship) and revealed an entrance, along with the familiar form of Starfire standing within.

Lian ran up and held out her arms expectantly.

Starfire smiled down at her, picked her up, and hugged her close. “Hello, Lian.”

Jason shoved down the awkward feeling of not belonging around such open, uncomplicated affection and followed them up to the ship. “I’m here, too, y’know,” he grumbled.

Starfire looked him up and down with a surprised look he was quickly getting tired of and opened her mouth to undoubtedly say the sort of comment he was getting just as tired of.

“Can you at least wait until Roy’s around to start talking about how much I’ve grown up?” he snapped. “I’d rather not have to repeat myself.”

Starfire rolled her eyes and pressed a button on the wall, closing the entrance behind them. “I see you have not grown up in _every_ way.”

“Hey, being grumpy is _very_ grown up!” Jason couldn’t quite suppress the whine in his voice. “At least, that’s what the internet says.”

“You can’t trust everything on the internet, Jason,” said Lian in a way that made Jason think she was just parroting something somebody had told her.

“We may discuss internet safety later,” said Starfire, gently putting Lian back down on the floor. “We must get to physical safety first.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies if the ending seems sudden. I've been playing Hades and it's consumed 99% of my imagination. I might have to take a break from this story and write some fic for it to get it all out of my system.
> 
> Thank you all for giving this story such a warm welcome. I'm trying to respond to comments a bit more, but I don't want to clog things up with a bunch of 'Thanks!'. So, if I don't respond, it's because I can't think of anything good to say, not because I do not appreciate it.


	3. Hello Again, Stars

Starfire led them to the cockpit, where Roy was waiting for them, fiddling around with one of his arrows. By normal standards, he looked like shit. Bandages, bruises, the works. By the standards of somebody who just got rescued from an ‘interrogation’, though, he looked great. He was awake and could move around, at least.

He looked about a thousand times better when his eyes landed on Lian and he smiled, showing so much overwhelming relief, joy, and love that Jason felt a little uncomfortable bearing witness to it.

Lian was not so happy, marching up to him with a frown on her face. For a moment, Jason thought she was concerned about her dad’s injuries. Then she demanded, “Why didn’t you tell me dinosaurs had feathers?”

Roy’s joy didn’t completely disappear, but a good portion of it was replaced with utter confusion. “I… what?”

“Dinosaurs have feathers!” Lian repeated. “The internet said so, and Jason said it was right. I’ve been imagining them wrong! Why didn’t you tell me?”

Roy looked to Starfire for help, but she was already at the helm, pressing buttons and pulling levers to safely get them into the air. There were some seriously good stabilizers on the ship, because the only reason Jason could tell they’d taken flight was because he could see it through the window, or whatever the spaceship term for it was. All she had to offer Roy was a not-quite-concealed smirk.

Normally, Jason would enjoy watching someone get lectured by their six-year-old, but Roy had clearly been through a hell of a day, and it looked like they’d be stuck together until they sorted this all out, so he decided to swoop in to the rescue.

“He probably didn’t know,” he said. “It’s a pretty recent discovery.”

Roy nodded. “Yeah. I haven’t really kept up with my archaeology. Sorry.”

“It’s paleontology,” Jason automatically corrected.

Roy rolled his eyes. “Good to see you’re still you, Jason, even if you’re…” He rose to his feet, frowning, and stepped closer to him. “Are you taller than me?”

Jason had been fully prepared for the ‘Yes, I’m tall now, I’ve noticed, can we move on?’ speech, but the sheer affront in Roy’s eyes at the idea of the scrawny Robin he remembered now being taller than him was just too delicious not to exploit.

Unfortunately, he was not given the chance to exploit it (yet), because Starfire said, “Could we please talk about this later? I believe we have more pressing matters at hand.”

“Fine,” Jason sighed. “First off, how about you tell me what the f-“

Roy interrupted him with a loud cough and a hurried, “Hey, sweetie, let’s go get you settled in.”

Oh, shit, right, small innocent child that didn’t hear or see worse than a few swear words on a daily basis.

“Settled in where?” Lian asked.

Jason could practically hear the gears in Roy’s head whirring as he raced to translate their situation into a kid-friendly form. “We can’t go home for a while, so we’ll be staying on the ship,” he eventually said.

“Oh.” Lian was clearly trying to put on a brave face, and it might have fooled somebody with less life experience and/or training than Jason, but it was obvious to him that she upset with the idea. Understandably so.

Starfire hit a few more buttons and got out of the chair. “It’s set to autopilot, now. Unless the United States have a battleship ready to go, I believe we shall be fine. Come on, Lian, you can have the room with the PlayStation.”

Lian perked up a little, but she still looked rather melancholy as she followed Starfire out of the room.

Roy sighed and sank back into the chair, wincing as he did so. “Sorry you had to get dragged into this,” he said.

“Me, too,” Jason grumbled. “But I’m here now, and I’d like to know what, exactly, I’ve gotten dragged into.”

“I don’t know,” said Roy. “Not for sure, anyway. You know I used to do some work for the government, right?”

Jason did not, in fact, know that. Or, if he did, the information had been discarded in favor of something more important, like all the lyrics to every song in Six. “Well, there’s your first mistake,” he said aloud.

“Well, I know that _now,_ ” Roy snapped. “I thought I was doing good. And I did, but it was too… Official, you know? Anyway, one of my old contacts said they needed some help with a mission. I thought they were trustworthy, so I went in, and… well… you know the rest.”

It took a great deal of willpower for Jason to resist the urge to continue needling him on trusting the feds. It wouldn’t be helpful. It could wait until they were safe. “Any idea why this old contact would sell you out?”

“The only clue I’ve got is that my oh-so-friendly hosts were awful keen on learning more about a mission I went on.” Seemingly subconsciously, Roy reached a hand up to rub at his side, wincing again as he did so.

Part of Jason wanted to grab him by the shoulders and shake him until he gave him every last detail, but it was only a small part, far outweighed by his desire to be a semi-decent human being. “You sure you should be talking right now?” he asked. “It can wait if it needs to.”

“Like you’re one to lecture anyone about that,” Roy scoffed. “I’m about ninety percent sure they didn’t break anything, so as long as I don’t pull any stitches, I should be good.”

Jason’s detail-oriented, paranoid detective instincts kicked in. Why did Roy have stitches already? From the sounds of it, he’d only been rescued… fuck, when did Donna call him, again? Lian still had his phone. Regardless, unless Starfire let the ship fly on autopilot through American airspace (and all the fighter jets, attack helicopters, and anti-aircraft missiles within) or they made a pit-stop at a doctor’s (which also seemed like a terrible idea), they shouldn’t have had enough time for that.

As stupid as this bout of paranoia probably was, Jason had to satisfy it. “How’d you get stitches?” he asked. “Does Starfire have a doctor stashed away on board?”

“Technically it’s a medical robot, but pretty much.” Roy looked down at a cut on his arm, which had been stitched closed with inhuman precision. “Guess she got tired of us bleeding all over her ship whenever we need an evac.”

Jason let himself relax again. Just an alien sci-fi robot. Nothing to get worked up over. Just because his paranoia was right earlier didn’t mean he had to let it drag him to any extremes like accusing people of being mind-controlled and/or robots. “All right. So, what was the mission they wanted to know about?”

“Nothing major. A criminal syndicate in Qurac stole a shipment of weapons meant for the US. I got them back. Didn’t think there was anything more to it.”

“What kind of weapons?”

“Just some guns and ammo. Nice guns and ammo, mind, but nothing worth all this.”

“Are you sure? No locked crates you weren’t supposed to open?”

Roy frowned thoughtfully, brow furrowing the exact same way Lian’s did. “I… I’m not sure. It was a while ago, and I didn’t think it was worth remembering. I mean, I probably didn’t open every single crate, so I guess there could’ve been something hidden there.”

Jason sighed. Of course they had basically zero clues. Of course. “So nothing glowing or making weird noises or shaking or emanating a sense of dread and terror?”

“Nope. They were very inconsiderate like that.”

Jason was internally debating whether to continue the joke or get back to business when Starfire walked back into the room, Jason’s phone in hand. “Someone’s trying very hard to reach you,” she said, holding it out to him.

Oh. Shit. Right. Even if Damian had kept his mouth shut, Bruce had probably figured out what had happened by now. Or, at least, he’d figured out enough to get extremely worried. Even as he took the phone from Starfire, it vibrated with another text, and his nerves made his grip weak enough that it would’ve fallen to the floor if all his ninja training hadn’t kicked in and allowed him to catch it.

He looked up at Starfire and Roy and said, “Okay, unless you guys feel like experiencing a Batman lecture second-hand, I could use some privacy. Do I get a room to myself, or…?”

“There’s a…” Starfire paused with a frown. “I believe an appropriate translation would be ‘lounge’, just down the hall, two doors to your right.”

That didn’t answer the question about rooms, but that could wait until later. A lounge would be more than suitable for getting yelled at and guilt-tripped.

He automatically took in the details of the room – couch, TV, garish polka-dot rug that must have been a gag gift – but didn’t really process it as he finally turned his phone on and opened up his texts. Yup, that was the entire Batfamily trying to contact him (except for Cass, who wasn’t a big fan of phones for obvious reasons and probably trusted the others to get on his case on her behalf). The most recent one was, unsurprisingly, from Bruce, and opening up his messages revealed he’d been spamming the word ‘Call’ for the last two minutes.

That meant Jason was absolutely not going to call Bruce, because no way was Bruce going to be anywhere near rational or reasonable or any of those other words that began with ‘r’ that he needed right now. No, it was a much better idea to call Barbara. It would be simple enough for her to let everyone who needed to know that he was okay. She’d definitely lecture him a little bit, but everybody he could call right now would lecture him at least a bit, and she wasn’t _quite_ emotionally invested in him enough to let her feelings completely overwhelm her judgement.

She picked up on the first ring and growled, “If you are not the owner of this phone, I am going to be very, very upset with you.”

“I mean, do any of us really own anything?” Jason mused, smirking. “Isn’t ownership just a piece of paper and a human concept?”

A rush of static came over the line that could have been a sigh of relief, frustration, or both. “Ha ha, very funny, Jason, now tell me where the hell you are before B gives himself a heart attack.”

Jason looked out the window. A sky full of stars met him, horribly familiar enough to make him have to clear the lump in his throat before speaking. “Uh, somewhere in space. Can’t be more specific than that.”

This time, Jason could tell it was relief in her voice as she said, “Koriand’r picked you up, then? Is everyone all right?”

“Roy’s got some bruises and Lian’s very upset about dinosaurs having feathers, but other than that, we’re all good.”

“Why is she upset about – No, never mind. Are you trying to deflect?” Babs asked in a tone that suggested if he was, he would soon be deflecting far more physical and sharp things.

“No?” he said with all the certainty he could muster, which was not much.

He could practically hear her frowning in the moment of silence that followed. She must have decided to let it go (for the moment, at least), for next she said, “Can you tell me exactly what’s happening? Nobody seems to know for certain, and you know how B gets when he doesn’t know everything.”

“Yeah. Hey, just for fun, how about you leave some details out when you tell him? And send me the camera feed.”

“Just answer the question, Jason,” she snapped.

Right. This was actually a serious conversation. In a different time, when Jason going out and risking his life was an everyday occurrence and the idea of anything permanent happening was relegated only to nightmares, he could keep on joking. But that time was past. Now, Jason was a living ghost, a living reminder of the perils of recklessness, a bird with broken wings that had to be protected. It would anger him if he hadn’t brought it on himself.

“We aren’t totally sure yet. An old contact of Roy’s from his government days asked him to help out on a mission and gave him bad intel, he got captured and interrogated about an old mission, Starfire got him out, I stopped another fed from taking Lian into quote-unquote ‘protective custody’, and now we’re all on a spaceship.”

“I see.” She mulled the new information over in silence, save for the faint clacking of a keyboard in the background. “Any details on this mission?”

“Just getting back some stolen weapons. My current theory is that there was something special in one of those crates and…”

Shit. Jason hadn’t actually gotten that far in his theory yet. What did it matter if there was something special? Roy had no idea there was anything weird, and whatever it was it must be back in American hands. If they were trying to tie up loose ends, why wait this long? Did they only just realize it was worth lethally tying loose ends over?

“I dunno. We’ve still got a lot of shit to figure out.”

“Sounds like it.” Another pause, with a very different sort of texture. One that set Jason’s just-relaxed nerves back into alarm mode. “I want to help, and I’ll do what I can, but… The Justice League’s already getting calls. Very official calls.”

Jason groaned. “Too official to tell them to fuck off?”

“Unfortunately, yes. They want to know where all of you are, and who you are, in particular.”

Great. Fucking great. He didn’t even have a proper secret identity yet, and it was already blown. “And are you going to tell them?”

“We have to tell them _something._ If we get on the government’s bad side, it’s going to be a lot harder to do our jobs. A lot of people could get hurt.”

Damn it, she was right. In their line of work, every second spent trying to circumvent obtrusive official channels was a second someone could die. “Fine. As long as whatever you tell them isn’t actually helpful for them.”

“Of course,” said Barbara, sounding rather insulted. “Just general ‘Oh, no, how could our dear friends turn against us like this?’ and ‘No, officer, we have never seen that man before in our lives’.”

“So, I take it we’re on our own officially, nudge nudge wink wink.”

“Of course,” Barbara repeated, much more warmly. “Even if they are former colleagues, the Justice League and associates would never knowingly aid outlaws. Now, for completely unrelated reasons, could you please have Roy send me all the info he can about this mission?”

“Yes, ma’am.” His phone beeped and buzzed against his cheek, signalling yet another text, and he let out a sigh. “Okay, I think if B’s left to his own devices any longer, he’s legit gonna have that heart attack, so let’s wrap this up.”

“Okay. I’ll wait until this is resolved before I lecture you on how colossally stupid it was for you to get yourself involved in this.”

Jason rolled his eyes. “Love ya, too, Babs.” It was only somewhat sarcastic. Despite the lecturing and the very rough adjustment period back when he first became Robin and she was still Batgirl, she was like the big sister he’d never had (before Cass turned up, anyway, and she was only older by a few months). A somewhat overbearing sister who definitely wanted to strangle him sometimes, and the feeling was sometimes mutual, but that was just how siblings worked.

“Be careful,” she said softly, both a warning and a plea, before she hung up.

He nearly shoved the phone back in his pocket before he realized he never actually asked her to pass the message on to Bruce. She would probably come to the conclusion that she would be the better source of that information, but this whole situation was the result of ‘probably nothing’. So, while keeping his eyes as firmly focused on his typing instead of on the texts looming at the top of the screen, he sent Bruce a quick text of, ‘I’m fine. Ask Babs for details.’

With that out of the way, he walked back to the cockpit. Starfire was once again seated at the controls. Both she and Roy were staring thoughtfully at a screen showing what Jason assumed to be a space map. They turned to look at him when he walked in.

“So, do we have to worry about an angry Batman showing up in his Batspaceship?” Roy asked.

“You say that like he doesn’t actually have a Batspaceship.” He didn’t, but Roy didn’t need to know that, and the look on his face made the lie more than worth it. “I talked with Oracle. She’ll pass the message on. And on that note, I’ve got some bad news and slightly less bad news.”

“Is this the part where you ask which we want to hear first?” asked Starfire.

“No need, I’ve already got it planned out. So, officially, the Justice League and various subsidiaries and allies can’t help us out without getting on the US government’s shit list, which is kind of a bad thing. Unofficially, Oracle’s gonna lend a hand, and I doubt she’ll be the only one willing.”

Roy groaned and massaged his temples. “Damn it. This would all be so much easier if I knew _why_ my old pals suddenly hate me.”

“If it helps, they could not have been very fond of you if they have turned on you so quickly,” said Starfire.

“Gee, thanks, Kori.”

“So, what have you guys been talking about?” Jason asked before they could descend into playful but very unhelpful bickering.

“Our next move,” said Starfire. “I believe we should visit a different planet before we return to Earth. This ship does not currently have the supplies to sustain us longer than a week or so. I doubt this situation will be resolved by then, and until it is, it is best we avoid making any unnecessary shopping trips on Earth.”

Okay. Made sense. Better to go for a shopping trip where nobody knew their faces. Plus, any planet advanced enough to have spaceship traffic probably had some really neat toys for Jason to try out. But… “And what about after that?”

“Well, the obvious lead is my old pal Byers. He’s the one that sold me out. If Oracle can get us his location, we can give him a little surprise visit.”

Jason smirked. “Ah, my favorite kind of visit.” The smirk faded as his brain took the step of _and then what_ and found no ground beneath it, threatening to send them all tumbling off the cliff if not rectified. “Any plans on how to make him talk?”

Roy shrugged. “I figured a gun to the head would do. You can do that, right?”

“Yeah. Just not sure that’ll work. Is this Byers guy very high up the chain?”

“Don’t think so. Could’ve gotten promoted recently. Why would…” Jason could practically hear the puzzle pieces click together in Roy’s head. “You think he’s not the one in charge of this.”

“And if the one in charge is willing and able to pull all this shit, they can probably do a lot worse to Byers than a gun to the head if he talks.” He’d run into the problem way too often as Robin. Nobody was going to consider the kid dressed up like a traffic light more threatening than their boss. It was why Batman had trained him in more subtle ways of interrogation, of asking just the right questions and cataloguing every last twinge of body language. Byers was probably trained in that, too, which meant he probably knew how to feint tells and make everything a thousand times harder.

 _I wish I still had the Phoenix,_ whispered a terminally stupid, mutinous thought before he could stop it. _It would save everyone so much pain if I could just read minds again._

He really, really, really, _really_ hoped he only imagined the sensation at the back of his skull that felt like something very small, or very large and very far away, had lifted its head and sniffed for the scent of blood on the air. A sensation like the creak of a submarine’s hatch coming loose, leaving room for the hungry ocean depths to surge in. A sensation like… well… like the Phoenix Force had heard him.

He closed his eyes and focused with all his might on the thought, _Never mind, never mind, never mind, I didn’t mean it, ignore it, I don’t want you back, never mind, I didn’t mean it, please don’t come back, please –_

A warm hand wrapped itself around his arm. Too warm. He froze at the touch, muscles seizing as rigidly as an ice sculpture, except for his eyelids, which flew open despite his bone-deep desire not to see what was coming.

It was just Starfire, staring at him in concern. Just Starfire. Of course she’d be warmer to the touch than humans, it was literally in her name. Well, codename. He was fine. They were all fine.

“Uh, you all right there, bud?” Roy asked, looking just as concerned and also quite alarmed.

Shit. Did he say that thought out loud? No wonder they were looking at him like that. “I’m…” he began. He couldn’t finish the thought. It was too tangled and jumbled and incoherent. He was fine, the Phoenix was still gone, but he also wasn’t fine, because it still loomed large and blindingly bright over him, casting his future in shadows. His stupid brain tried to communicate it directly, like the stupid lump of electrical signals and chemicals it was. Pain pulsed from the telepathy-shaped hole in… not quite tidal waves, but more than enough to sink any small boats it happened upon.

He only noticed he’d closed his eyes again when he felt Starfire’s grip tighten. Not painfully, but enough to communicate her concern as surely as telepathy.

“I think I need a nap,” Jason muttered, then winced, because even that much noise clanged far too loud in his ears.


	4. Let's Go to the (Alien) Mall

Jason barely took in his surroundings – bunk beds, lockers, a few posters and colorful blankets keeping it from looking completely impersonal and bland – before he stumbled over to the nearest bed and collapsed onto it. It didn’t help much with the headache still pounding against the inside of his skull, but at least he no longer had to expend precious energy keeping himself from falling over. He could focus his entire being upon laying there feeling miserable.

“I hope you do not mind sharing sleeping quarters,” said Starfire. “This ship only has two such rooms, and I thought it best Lian get the more comfortable one.”

The sound of her voice still made him wince, but at least it no longer felt like a rusty nail getting hammered into his brain through his ear, so hooray, progress. He gave as clear of a shrug as he could in his current non-shrug-friendly position. “Whatever.”

“Would you like some medication for your headache? I believe I have some-“

Jason opened his eyes again to glare blearily at her. “Starfire, I really appreciate the thought, but all I want right now is peace and quiet.”

Starfire nodded in understanding, gave him one last slightly worried smile, and left the room.

Jason buried his face in the pillow and sighed. This was just fucking fantastic. Starfire and Roy probably already primarily thought of him as ‘Dick’s kid brother’, and having a mental breakdown in front of them for no good reason within five minutes of meeting again really wasn’t going to help with that. At this rate, they were probably just going to dump him at the manor and let Bruce ground him until the government no longer wanted him dead/in custody/whatever it was they were planning, or more likely for the rest of his life.

 _Maybe that would be for the best,_ part of him thought. _You did your job. Lian’s safe. Roy and Starfire can handle it from here. Maybe Babs will let you help out with some research and mission control stuff._

Logically, that would probably be the best idea. Leave it to the professionals. Stay out of trouble. Don’t fuck it up. He always fucked things up. When would he ever learn?

And yet…

He’d forgotten what it felt like. The rush of adrenaline, the thrill of beating his opponent, the sheer relief when he did the job right and everyone was safe. Sparring and giving info over comms just wasn’t the same. It was like trying to sate your craving for soda with Lacroix. And he _had_ done the job right. He’d barely been there five minutes before the fake babysitter showed up. If he’d turned Donna down, what were the chances of her finding someone else and them getting there before that? And it was always useful to have another set of eyes and hands on a mission. He _probably_ wouldn’t do more harm than good. Not now that he…

The Phoenix, or maybe just its memory, loomed again.

Jason evened his breathing and tried to relax. Sleep was a good idea. Sure, in his current mental state he’d probably have a nightmare, but there was a better chance of him having a nice dream than there was of him actually taking his mind off his troubles and having a good time while awake.

It didn’t come quickly or easily, but sleep did eventually come to claim him.

The good news was that he didn’t dream of the Phoenix Force. The bad news was he dreamed of the Joker.

Once the initial terror and panic upon waking faded, all he could think about was how _stupid_ that was. He’d died several times since then. He wouldn’t call any of them pleasant. The physical pain of his first death paled in comparison to the emotional pain of knowing just how many lives he’d destroyed with the Phoenix. And the Joker was dead, swallowed whole by whatever Hell had been specially crafted just for him, never ever coming back. So why did Jason keep having these nightmares?

He let out a frustrated groan and rolled out of bed. His headache was gone, at least, so he was able to get to his feet with only minimal swaying and dizziness.

He pricked up his ears, searching for any sign of activity, conversation, or other distraction from his thoughts. He quickly found it in the form of muffled voices, and what sounded like laughter. He followed the sound to a closed door and knocked.

Starfire opened the door. Behind her, Jason could see Roy and Lian sitting in front of a screen that seemed to be showing a paused game of… Jason couldn’t remember the name of the game, but it was very colorful and kid-friendly. Whatever it was they were playing, they weren’t playing it at the moment, instead turned around to look at Jason with worry (Roy) and curiosity (Lian).

“Ah, hello, Jason,” said Starfire. “Did you have a good nap?”

Jason shrugged. “I’ve had worse. So, any changes to the plan I should know about?”

He knew they noticed the deflection, it was obvious in Starfire’s clenched jaw and Roy’s narrowed eyes, but they didn’t say anything about it. Probably because Lian was there and they didn’t want to worry her. Jason made a mental note to have her around whenever he was trying to avoid a difficult topic.

“We are on course for Nicrahines,” said Starfire. “It is a relatively out-of-the-way planet, so it is unlikely we will run into trouble, and we should be able to find everything we need in its markets. I should go to the helm and ensure the autopilot is working correctly. Will you join me, Jason?”

Jason knew an order, not a question, when he heard one. “All right.” He waved to Lian and Roy, thought mostly Lian. “See you guys later.”

As soon as Starfire had walked out and closed the door behind her, she turned to Jason and said, “Do you wish to explain your outburst earlier? You do not have to, if you are not comfortable with the thought.”

No, Jason was not comfortable with the thought of spilling his guts to somebody he’d hung out with _maybe_ a dozen times. But he was even less comfortable with the thought of her assuming the worst and turning the ship around to drop him off at home.

“It… Okay, fair warning, it’s going to sound really stupid,” he prefaced.

Starfire made no comment, simply staring at him expectantly.

Jason took a deep breath as he wrangled his thoughts into a semblance of order. “I just… I had a stupid thought that it would be a lot easier to get answers out of Byers if I still had the Phoenix’s telepathy, and I was worried it was listening, so I just wanted to make sure it didn’t get the wrong idea.”

“That is not stupid,” said Starfire. “That is… You are right to be worried. Are you certain it is listening to your thoughts?”

“No. I don’t know. Maybe I’m just being paranoid. I just…” Could it really be called paranoia when the stakes were so literally astronomical? Wasn’t any sort of behavior acceptable when the entire universe – hell, _every_ universe – was at stake?

It was a little hard to read eyes that were glowing green orbs with no visible pupil or iris or any of the other eye parts Jason couldn’t remember the name of at the moment, but he was pretty sure the look in Starfire’s eyes was a thoughtful one. And, obviously, a concerned one, but she’d been looking at him with concern for most of the time he’d seen her on this trip, and he suspected she’d be looking at him that way for quite a while yet.

Honestly, Jason was glad for the look, and for the silence as Starfire mulled his words over. It meant she was taking the matter seriously. The last thing he wanted right now was an immediate, empty ‘It’ll be okay’. If somebody was naïve enough to assume that everything would work itself out every time and they’d all live happily ever after, they weren’t the sort of person Jason trusted to be able to actually help anyone, much less someone like him.

Eventually, Starfire asked, “When time permits, would you like Martian Manhunter to give you a mental scan? To see if he can detect the Phoenix’s presence?”

Quite frankly, Jason wasn’t sure any telepath in the universe would be able to sense the Phoenix if it didn’t want to be sensed. It beat doing nothing but sitting around worrying, though. “It’s worth a shot,” he said. “I doubt time will permit it for a while, though.”

Starfire nodded in agreement, expression shifting into something far more relaxed and casual. “Indeed. Now that that’s settled, may I ask why it is you refer to Roy by name but not me?”

It took Jason a second to switch gears from ‘conversation about possibly getting possessed and trying to brainwash/kill everyone in the universe again’ to ‘conversation a normal human being might have’. “Uh… your name’s kind of long. Starfire’s shorter.”

“You could just call me Kori, you know.”

It took Jason another second to process that. The only times he’d met her before were back when he was Robin, and all the Titans seemed so big and important and unapproachable. He’d spent pretty much every conversation with any of them feeling light-headed from panic, unless Dick was around to figuratively (and occasionally literally) hide behind. The thinly veiled disapproval of his existence as Robin 2.0 didn’t help, either. Even now that he was older and taller and everything seemed less intimidating and impressive, it had never occurred to him before that moment to call her by a nickname.

He shook himself. He was being stupid. Star – Kori was just another person, even if she was an alien princess with superpowers, and if she told him it was okay to call her that, it was okay to call her that. “Okay. So, Kori, do you actually need my help at the helm, or was this purely an excuse to interrogate me?”

“Not with checking the autopilot, but I could use your input on our shopping list,” she said. With that out of the way, she turned around and walked toward the cockpit.

Jason followed, already putting together a list in his head.

* * *

Kori said that the flight should only take a few more hours. Once the shopping list included everything Jason could think of, he was dismissed, and after a moment of staring blankly at the hallway wall he decided to return to the room Roy and Lian were in.

They were still playing the video game, and it was obvious (to Jason, at least) that Roy needed a break. Even if his injuries were the best-case scenario for getting pulled out of a torture chamber, they were still injuries and probably hurt like a bitch. While he was sitting right next to Lian, he obviously couldn’t let it show, much less do anything to lessen it, so Jason swooped in to the rescue and pretended he had a burning need to try this game he couldn’t remember the name of. Roy, being the wonderful person he was, graciously stepped aside to give him his controller and retreated to… somewhere. Probably the med bay. Jason didn’t ask.

The game was decently fun, once Lian not-so-patiently explained the rules to him. For such a nice kid, she sure did have a competitive streak. Good thing they were on the same team, otherwise Jason suspected she wouldn’t have explained anything at all and just laughed at him while he flailed about. He wondered if she got that from Roy or Cheshire. Probably Cheshire. He hoped she didn’t pick up any more of her mom’s quirks, for all their sakes, because he doubted any of her aunties or uncles would be willing to lift a finger against her if she grew up to be a supervillain.

He completely lost track of time, so he had no idea if Kori’s ETA was correct or not. All he knew was that they were in the middle of a match when Kori opened the door and told them they’d arrived.

Lian, in her infinite six-or-whatever-year-old wisdom, decided that continuing the game was far more important than going to see a literal alien planet. Kori agreed to let her stay behind quickly enough to make Jason suspicious. He waited until Roy came back to take over the controller and he and Kori were in the hallway out of earshot before he questioned her about it.

“Let us just say that when I entered Nicrahines into the autopilot, a travel advisory message regarding its crime rate appeared,” she explained.

“Ah.” Jason pulled out his gun and checked to make sure the bullets hadn’t spontaneously evaporated when he wasn’t looking. They had not. “I’m hoping the locals aren’t bulletproof.”

“If they are, I doubt they are also immune to starbolts,” she assured him, summoning a cocoon of energy around one hand to prove her point.

Jason shoved the gun back in its holster, and attempted to shove the memories of his own hand engulfed in flame away as well. “All right, then. If we die, I reserve the right to claim I told you so.”

At an earlier point in life, he probably would have been excited to see another planet like this. Right now, though, with bad memories already lurking in the forefront of his mind, he couldn’t help but remember the last time he was on another planet. Stabbing yourself in the throat and getting disintegrated right in front of someone who cared about you put a hell of a damper on any dreams of interstellar travel.

So, he couldn’t bring himself to admire the strange architecture, or marvel at all the alien races milling around the spaceport. All he could see were possible threats. He kept close to Kori, and kept a hand poised to pull a weapon at any moment as they made their way through the crowd. The fact that he had no idea what anybody in said crowd was saying did not help matters. Appreciating the unique languages created by species with inhuman vocal cords would have to wait for a day when he wasn’t suspicious that every single word spoken concerned his impending death.

Kori led him to something that looked vaguely like a kiosk and had a conversation with the alien standing behind it that, to Jason, was utterly undecipherable. Eventually, she handed them an object vaguely like a long, thin USB drive, they plugged it into something, and then they handed it back, along with two other vaguely headphone-like devices Jason did not recognize.

Kori stepped to the side and handed one of the devices to him. “This is a translator. It goes over your ears like this.” She demonstrated it, and it clearly must have worked because the moment she did her eyes unfocused as the wordless hubbub of the crowd seemed to suddenly become coherent.

He took a deep breath and followed her example, and oh boy was it quite the experience. One of those experiences that there were no words for, at least not in any of the languages Jason knew. He imagined it must be what it was like when somebody tried on the right prescription glasses for the first time.

He let out a breath as he let all the voices and words wash over them and realized none of them involved killing him. “Holy shit, these are great,” he said. “Would it fry my brain or something if I wore these all the time?”

Kori’s eyes snapped back into focus. “In a way, yes. We are only borrowing these. We must return them before we leave, or else they will, as you put it, fry our brains.”

Jason eyed her expression for a few moments to make sure she wasn’t kidding. He looked back at the kiosk worker, who seemed to be doing the Nicrahines equivalent of hiding their phone just out of view while they played Candy Crush. Not the sort of behavior one associated with handing someone a time bomb. Could just be a culture thing, though, like how humans used to consider public execution a fun day out for the family. Some probably still did.

“I guess they got sick of people running off with them,” Jason muttered. He shook himself. As long as they brought them back, they’d be fine. If worse came to worse, they could just take them off and throw them out of brain-frying range. In the meantime, they had work to do. “So, what’s first on the list?”

Food, it turned out, was first on the list. Not even the translator was able to help Jason understand what the majority of the stuff in the alien grocery store was, so he ended up just pushing the floating shopping cart while Kori stocked up. He also left the chit-chat with the cashier to her, because he had no idea how to make small-talk with someone who had probably never been to Earth.

Second was gas, or fuel, or whatever the proper term was. Jason wasn’t very much help there, either. He couldn’t even help with the math, because Kori could just use a calculator. So, once again, he was left standing in the background trying to seem threatening instead of pouting.

He got lucky with number three, or maybe Kori just took pity on him. They had to get the various components and ingredients Roy had requested for whatever weird arrows he was planning to make. Kori didn’t have much need for weapons besides her own fists, so she needed some help understanding exactly what it was Roy was asking for. Luckily, Jason was intimately familiar with needing every advantage he could get his hands on.

Once they had all that in their cart (and it really said something about Nicrahines that the weaponry store had fucking shopping carts and was bustling with activity), Kori looked back down at the list, then up at him. “I can find the rest on my own. While I do so, perhaps you can find yourself a helmet?”

Jason tried not to perk up like a kid who’d just been told he could go get himself some candy while mom waited in line for the cashier, even though he felt like one. He couldn’t quite keep the skip out of his swagger as he went to the armor section, mentally dusting off the list of possible aliases and costumes he’d been working on ever since he’d come back to life.

There was quite the array of helmets waiting for him. A necessity, he supposed, when you had no idea what shaped head your customer would have. Once he narrowed it down to just ones that would actually fit him, the choices were far less overwhelming. Still, if he let himself overthink things, he would probably be standing there all day deliberating.

Lian was right, trying to decide on a name and costume was hard. Especially when you weren’t just playing pretend and couldn’t be Doctor Dinosaur.

Phoenix was off the table. For one thing, the helmet was still back in the Batcave, and getting it meant he’d get ambushed by Bruce with an angry lecture fueled by so much worry and fear Jason might not be able to bring himself to leave. For another, Phoenix had made quite a few enemies. Powerful enemies. The sort that were out of his weight class now, and he was too out of practice to be sure if he could bridge the gap no matter how many dirty tricks he used.

Like Starfire had showed him, he pushed a button on the translator. With a mechanical whirring sound, a lens folded out in front of his eye, translating the text on the display. Only for the one eye, though, which meant closing the other one unless he felt like throwing up on the store floor. Oh, neat, he could change the colors of the helmets on display to see what they’d look like.

He did so with the cheapest one he could see – a relatively form-fitting one that was featureless save for the eye lenses. Perfect for somebody trying to be as inscrutable as possible. He scrolled through the colors, and mentally scrolled through all the appropriate names for each color, until he reached red. Like Lian had said, it was a great color. And it went perfectly with the name that had been the runner-up even when the Phoenix Force was nudging him towards its own name.

Red Hood.

It was only fair. The Joker had taken everything from him. His life, years with his family, any semblance of hope for ever having peace of mind. He didn’t even have the decency to leave Jason alone after he was dead. Since he didn’t have a proper grave, this was the closest Jason could come to pissing on it.

He settled on red and followed the helpful instructions to dispense a non-display version from the helmet dispenser (there was probably a proper, fancy term for it, but the English language had not come across helmet dispensers enough to come up with a proper translation). With that done, he wandered through the aisles until he found Kori again.

She tilted her head slightly as she took in his choice. “I expected something… flashier.”

Jason couldn’t exactly blame her, so he just shrugged and said, “Eh, it was cheap. And I’m kinda trying to avoid getting identified, y’know?”

Kori took the helmet from him and tilted it, looking at the price tag. “Indeed, that is quite cheap. Given our budget, you could even purchase some back-ups in case it is damaged.”

Jason opened his mouth to argue, then realized exactly how much damage he was probably going to put this poor helmet through. “Oh, well, if you insist.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, the chapter title is a dumb HIMYM reference. No, I do not have the energy to come up with a better one.


	5. Nothing to Hide, No, Sir

Jason breathed out a sigh of relief when they stepped back onto the ship. No matter how many times Kori assured him so many aliens were looking at him only because they’d probably never seen a human before and were curious, he couldn’t completely suppress the belief that they all wanted him dead after all. Also, every five steps from the kiosk he’d reached up to check that he hadn’t forgotten to give his translator back and doomed himself to life as a vegetable. Also also, the memories of his previous ‘adventures’ in space took the lack of any more shopping to do as their chance to barrage him once again.

All in all, he was not sorry at all to watch Nicrahines vanish in the rear-view mirror. Metaphorically, of course. The less he had to look at a sky full of stars, the better.

Once they were back inside, Kori went to the cockpit to punch in the coordinates back to Earth or however it was exactly one controlled a spaceship. Jason went back to the master bedroom or games room or whatever it was. Lian and Roy were still there, though Roy was now lying on the bed with an arm thrown over his eyes and Lian was being noticeably quieter than before.

That quietness went out the airlock when she turned around and practically shouted, “Hi, Jason! Do you wanna play with me?”

Roy moved his arm and blinked blearily at him. Whether that bleariness was from sleep or pain, Jason couldn’t tell. “Sure,” he said, dropping the bag next to Roy on the bed and sitting next to Lian.

While he got back into the swing of the game, he kept careful note of the sounds coming from Roy’s direction. There was only some slight groaning, far overshadowed by the rummaging sounds of him going through the bags for his stuff.

“All right,” said Roy eventually, his voice accompanied by the faint sound of him getting to his feet and an even fainter hiss of pain. “I’ll go get started on some new arrows. You guys have fun.”

“Bye, Daddy!” Lian called out, eyes still glued to the screen.

Jason eventually got bored of the game, but he tried not to let it show. He couldn’t help Kori with navigation, and he doubted he had the specific technical know-how to help Roy with his tinkering much, so the most useful thing he could do right now was keep Lian safe and occupied with something other than the realization of just how fucked her situation was, though he doubted she’d use that language.

Luckily, she eventually got bored of it, too. Thanks to his years of training and experience, Jason was able to discern this from the way she put her controller down and declared, “I’m bored.”

Jason closed the game and turned off the console before he put his controller down, too. “All right. What do you wanna do?”

Lian considered it carefully for a few moments. “I wanna nap.”

Frankly, Jason wanted to take a nap, too, but considering he just took one a couple hours ago he doubted he’d be able to actually go to sleep. He’d just end up lying in a bed, staring up at the ceiling (or at least at the bunk above him), _thinking._ Ugh. No, thank you.

“All right,” he said aloud. “Sleep tight.”

He lingered in the doorway while she took off her shoes, pulled a stuffed bird out of her backpack, and climbed into the bed. Once he was reasonably sure she was legitimately trying to go to sleep and not just waiting for him to leave her alone so she could get up to mischief (she didn’t really seem the type, but spending too much time with Damian left its marks), he finally left her be.

His first thought was to find Roy and interrogate him more on that old mission. His second thought was oh, right, he had no idea where the fuck Roy was. The only rooms he knew were the bedrooms, the lounge, and the cockpit, and none of those seemed terribly likely. If Roy was working on new arrows, he’d be in a workshop or the closest thing the ship had to one. If he was letting the doctor robot patch him up, he’d be in the med-bay. Jason had no idea where either of those rooms were.

So, he went to the cockpit to find Kori. He found her, along with Roy, which probably would have made him telekinetically smash something if he’d still had his powers. All that worry over whether or not it would be breaking space etiquette to just open random doors until he found him, and he was right fucking here.

They both turned to look at him as he entered. “How is she?” Roy asked.

“Taking a nap,” Jason replied, relaxing against the wall and casually crossing his arms across his chest. “So, what are we talking about?”

“Our next move,” said Kori, pressing a few buttons so that a large holographic screen appeared before them all, showing a bunch of scanned documents, digital documents, maps, photos, etc. A case file. “Oracle sent us quite a bit of intel. You will be pleased to know that she erased as much security camera footage of you as she could. All our opponents should have access to is descriptions and composite sketches.”

Jason breathed a sigh of relief and made a mental note to get Barbara something really nice for her birthday. Reluctant as he was to become legally alive again, he wasn’t sure what he’d do if the option were gone forever.

“It looks like she’s not the only one that’s been messing around with files,” Roy grumbled, pointing at what was clearly a scan of a physical document. “This is the report I wrote for that mission.” He pointed to a nearly identical digital version. “This is the report they have on file.”

Jason pushed himself off the wall so he could get closer and have a better look. He quickly read through them both. They were nearly identical, save for one crucial detail: the digital report claimed that Roy failed to locate the weapons. “When was the file edited?” he asked. “And how’d you manage to get the physical copy?”

“Oracle says it was only a couple weeks ago,” said Roy. “And we don’t have a physical copy. They probably burned it. Luckily for us, whoever was in charge of deleting the scan was less diligent than Oracle.”

Ah, good old human error. The one true weakness of even the greatest conspiracies. “So, something’s definitely up with those weapons. Did they make up any follow-up reports of other agents looking for them?”

“We do not know,” said Kori. “Since this is strictly off-the-books, as they say, Oracle can only devote so much time to aiding us. And she said any unnecessary contact with her or any of our other League associates would be too risky.”

Jason knew a ‘Don’t be a dumbass and put us all in danger by calling me and whining until I help you more’ when he heard one. On the bright side, it meant he had a perfectly valid reason not to call Bruce and listen to his angry/worried lecturing. On the dark side, it meant they were on their own until somebody had both the time and inclination to help. So, probably not for a while.

Jason took a seat and fully shifted into detective mode. “What information _do_ we have, then?”

Kori pushed more buttons, scrolling through the data on screen as she spoke. “We have Byers’ address, the report he made regarding Roy’s capture, and the location of the headquarters of what remains of the syndicate that attempted to steal the weapons.”

All good things. Useful things. Hopefully. And if it turned out they weren’t useful, there was a very good chance they’d find some breadcrumbs to lead them to what _was_ useful. “Let me see the report,” said Jason.

Kori promptly pulled it up and continued (at least, Jason assumed it was continued, given the utter lack of build-up or context) her conversation with Roy on whether they should go after Byers or the syndicate first. He tuned it out as he read through the report. He’d need them to fill him in on what he’d already missed, anyway.

Either Donna, Roy, Kori, and Babs were all in on an elaborate conspiracy, or Byers’ report was a heaping pile of bullshit. Given his experiences with government employees in the past, he was leaning toward the latter explanation. For one thing, he claimed that he only realized after the fact that the organization he sent Roy to infiltrate was the weapon-stealing syndicate, which just made him look like a total idiot. He also slipped in a little hypothesis about Roy working with the syndicate all along, which… _maybe_ from an outside perspective made sense, but it also didn’t really belong in a report like this.

Unless Byers’ superior was also an idiot, this report wouldn’t convince them. Which meant the superior was probably already in on it and just making sure their people covered their tracks. They might even have edited the report themselves to set Byers up as a scapegoat if need be. Jason would feel bad about it if Byers hadn’t, y’know, sentenced a (mostly) innocent man to torture and probable execution.

The report also failed to explain a detail that had been bugging Jason for a while. “Hey, Roy,” he said, interrupting his and Kori’s conversation. “How did they know you were the one on the mission?”

Roy frowned as he thought it over. “I don’t know. I assumed Byers told them.”

Jason barely noticed himself stand up and begin pacing, too absorbed in his thoughts. “How much did he tell them, then? Was it just to get you killed, or did he want information out of you without getting American hands dirty?”

“Well, joke’s on him, I don’t know jack shit,” Roy grumbled, glaring down at his bandages. “And torture’s really ineffective. I don’t know why people even bother anymore.”

“In a world where people paid attention to statistics and studies and basic human decency, they wouldn’t,” said Jason. “Unfortunately, that isn’t this world.”

_It could have been, though, if you hadn’t chickened out._

Jason’s life would be so much easier and happier if he could just believe that the little voice in his head that thought that was the Phoenix Force, or at least sounded like it. But it didn’t. It was all him. He was the one that decided to become judge, jury, and executioner. He was the one that thought of lives as numbers in a math problem instead of actual people. He was the one that inadvertently taught the Phoenix to do the same, the one that taught it all the wrong lessons about mortality, taught it too much about pain and rage and not enough about peace and love.

“Jason?”

It took him a moment to realize somebody had said his name. Fuck, he was so out of it he couldn’t even remember who it was that said it. It didn’t matter, really, because both Kori and Roy were looking at him with equally worried expressions. He supposed he shouldn’t blame them, considering just a few hours ago he’d mad a minor mental breakdown right in this very cockpit over a very similar topic.

“Sorry,” he said, shaking his head as if he could physically dislodge all his unwanted thoughts. “Zoned out for a second there. Did I miss anything?”

“We asked if you agreed that we should target Byers first,” Kori explained. “He is most likely keeping a close eye upon the syndicate, and would go into hiding if he saw us go after them. The inverse is far less likely.”

Jason nodded. “Yeah. Makes sense. Any ideas on how to get him to talk?”

“Hmm…” Roy’s eyes lit up like a lightbulb. “You think you can hack into a federal agent’s personal computer, Jason?”

Jason rolled his eyes. “Bitch, I hacked into the Pentagon as a training exercise when I was twelve. I think I can manage some idiot that thought setting you up was a good idea. Why, you think he’s… No, never mind. Obviously he’s got something to hide.” Nobody went straight from squeaky-clean law-abiding citizen to risking serious jail time for falsifying evidence and all the other charges that’d get leveled if (no, not if, _when_ ) this all came to light.

Kori frowned, looking slightly alarmed. “Why did you just call Roy a bitch?”

“Slang,” said Roy, in a tone that suggested this was a well-rehearsed answer to Kori’s questions. Rehearsed enough that he (and probably all their other friends) had polished it down to a single word.

“Ah.” Kori looked over to Jason. “If you give me your email address, I can send you Oracle’s data.”

Jason mentally went through his list of addresses for one he didn’t mind getting passed along to any of her friends (and also didn’t have a stupid name he came up with during his middle school anime phase). “Yeah, sure, it’s _batmansucks19_ at gmail. No spaces.”

“Subtle,” Roy said sarcastically while Kori pressed all the appropriate buttons.

“You say that like you’ve never considered making a username about how much you hate Green Arrow,” Jason replied.

“Guilty as charged, but at least I don’t still live with him and mooch off his money while insulting him.”

Jason couldn’t really come up with a response to that. Luckily, he could see Kori pulling up Urban Dictionary on the screen, so clearly the meeting was over.

“I’ll look this all over and let you know if I find anything,” he said, silently ending the sentence with, _that I think you need to know._ As much as he remembered hating it whenever Bruce decided he didn’t need to know important mission intel, he also knew that sometimes your partners really didn’t need to know everything. If Bruce had given him the full rap sheet of all the people they fought beforehand, he probably would have become a murderer way earlier.

He went back to the bunks to go over everything on his phone. It was far from an ideal device for this sort of work, but he’d already walked out of the cockpit by the time he realized it and he really didn’t want to have to walk back in and interrupt Kori’s self-taught slang lesson in order to ask her how her ship worked. He’d be fine. He’d done better with worse.

* * *

The data held far more questions than answers. According to the shipping manifest, there wasn’t anything unusual about the weapons. Just ordinary high-grade military stuff. And according to the document properties, it hadn’t been edited in years. Then again, whoever wrote up the manifest might have been out of the loop in the first place, or the one in charge of editing it was a lot better at hiding their tracks than the one in charge of the mission report. But why put that person in charge of something so minor? Why –

Eventually he had to toss his phone to the side and lay down. All the documents and photos and maps and… just… _everything_ gave him a whole bunch of puzzle pieces, but none of them were corners or edges or fit together or gave him any idea of what the big picture they formed was supposed to look like. It turned his train of thought into a circle, while also convincing the conductor that if he just kept going at full speed he’d eventually get to where he needed to go.

Thankfully, before he could completely drive himself insane, Kori popped her head in and informed him they would be arriving back on Earth soon. She led him into what looked like a dining room/kitchen/meeting room hybrid. Roy and Lian were already there, having cereal.

Without the distraction of work, Jason’s stomach churned in an unignorable reminder that it had been quite a while since he’d had anything to eat, so he asked, “Where can I get some of that?”

Lian swallowed and helpfully informed him of the location of everything required. While he got everything together, Roy said, “Lian, time for headphones.”

Lian pouted, but she pulled some headphones out of her bag, plugged them into the tablet sitting on the table, and presumably put on some music.

“Did you find anything useful?” Kori asked.

Jason shook his head. “No, and I’m pretty hungry right now, so please save any questions until after I’m finished.”

They tried to. They really did. Jason appreciated that. But there was only so far you could go in a conversation about stealthily breaking into a house and hacking into the computer before it was stupid not to consult the nearby Bat. Luckily, Babs’ intel included blueprints for Byers’ apartment building, and Roy and Kori had picked up quite a bit about breaking and entering over the years, so Jason only had to take very short breaks from eating to give what little advice they needed.

While the discussion went on, he kept as close an eye on Lian as he could without her noticing. She was still pouting about being left out, but there was no sign of her trying to surreptitiously pause her music and listen in on the conversation. Considering she was a small child with zero proper training in hiding her body language, he doubted she’d picked up the skills necessary to trick him. Or maybe his growing fondness for her was just blinding him.

Either way, it wasn’t long before they were back in the Earth’s atmosphere, they had a decent plan, and Jason was reasonably certain any attempt at stealth wouldn’t be ruined by a growling stomach.

Kori had to land the ship a good ways away from the city to make sure they weren’t spotted. Once Lian was settled in with her sketchbook and every single security measure on the ship was activated to keep her safe, Kori picked Jason and Roy up with an ease that suggested she was used to being used as a mode of transportation and flew them within walking distance. Then she went right back to the ship, because there was only so much a 6’4 orange lady with flaming hair and glowing eyes could do to blend in.

Jason and Roy walked in silence along the (mostly) empty road. For a little while, anyway.

“So, any critical details you’ve been keeping to yourself because you don’t think anyone not directly involved in the mission needs to know?” Roy asked casually, lowering the brim of his baseball cap to hide his face as a car drove past.

“No, actually,” said Jason honestly. “And even if I did, if things go well you won’t be directly involved in the mission, either, so why would I tell you?”

Roy laughed, then winced and rubbed at his side. Between gritted teeth, he said, “You’re really out of practice if you think this mission is going to go well.”

Jason shrugged. “I know, but I’m pretty sure I can handle whatever goes wrong by myself.”

He kept his eyes fixed ahead, but out of the corner of his eye he could see Roy staring at him.

Before he could make a comment about a picture lasting longer, Roy said, “Aww, you’re worried about me. That’s adorable.”

Jason scoffed, “In your dreams, Harper. I just don’t want to have to tell Lian you got yourself killed trying to be a hero.”

It was only when the words left his mouth that he realized what a low blow they were. Roy probably worried about dying and leaving Lian behind all the time. Jason definitely would, if he had a kid as adorable as her.

Sure enough, Roy’s voice was a lot harsher when he said, “And I don’t want to have to tell Batman you got yourself killed trying to prove yourself to him.”

Jason came to a stop, whirled on him, and snarled, “I’m not trying to prove anything to anyone.”

It was a lie. He _was_ trying to prove something. But not to Batman, and probably not in the way Roy thought. The only one he had to prove anything to was himself, and the only thing he had to prove was that he was still capable of doing _something_ good without accidentally inflicting unimaginable damage on the world. That he could still be a hero. That he could be something other than the caged remains of the monster that destroyed an entire universe and then some.

Obviously, he wasn’t about to say any of that out loud, much less to somebody who’d only seen him as anything other than his friend’s stupid kid brother/replacement for less than a day.

Roy didn’t rise to his challenge. Instead, he took a deep breath and looked somewhat guilty as he said, “Sorry. I… It’s been a long day. For all of us. Just… call for backup if you need it, all right?”

Jason took a deep breath, too. Roy had had a way longer and harder day than he had. If Roy could stay calm and focus on the mission, he should be able to, too. “All right,” he said.

Roy’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Oh, no, you don’t, I know that ‘all right’. That’s the ‘I’m not actually going to do it because I’m a big bad Bat that doesn’t need help’ all right. If you don’t say it and mean it, I am calling Kori and having her fly you back to Gotham.”

Damn it. Jason really needed to hang out with people that didn’t already know all his family’s bad habits. “Fine, _dad._ All right. Happy now?”

Roy turned and started walking again, rubbing again at one of his wounds. “Not really, but that’s not your fault.”

Jason fell into step alongside him. The rest of the walk into the city went in troubled, but welcome, silence.

* * *

Unfortunately, they _did_ eventually have to talk again, once they were on a roof close enough to grapple to Byers’ apartment building but hidden enough that (hopefully) nobody would notice them. They’d used a scanner Kori picked up on Nicrahines to confirm nobody was home, changed into their combat gear, and tested all the equipment they’d need. All that was left to do was talk.

“You sure you’re in a condition to play backup?” Jason asked, fiddling with his bulletproof vest. It wasn’t as good of a fit as he was used to, but he’d manage until he could get his hands on something custom.

In one fluid movement, Roy pulled an arrow from his quiver, nocked it, and loosed it. It hit the dead center of the patch of moss on the stairwell wall they’d been using as a makeshift target. “I think I’ll be fine,” he said smugly. “Besides, if you’re as good as you act like you are, you won’t need backup, right?”

Jason cupped a hand behind his ear. “What’s that? Don’t call for backup after all? Yes, sir.”

Roy rolled his eyes. “Just get in there, already, before – Oh, shit, you need a code name!”

Oh, shit, Jason hadn’t actually said his new code name out loud yet. “It’s Red Hood,” he said, putting his new helmet on.

Roy didn’t seem to recognize where the name came from, which Jason was grateful for. The fewer distractions they had, the better. “Okay, then, Red Hood, get in there.”

Jason calculated the best angle for his grappling hook, fired, and went flying in a near-perfect arc toward Byers’ window. Near-perfect as in his feet hit the window at more of an angle than he’d wanted, and the pain receptors in the foot that hit first did _not_ appreciate it.

He let out more of a hiss than a swear as he tucked and rolled on the carpet, glass shards tinkling and breaking into even smaller pieces under him. Once he came to a stop, he took a moment to catch his breath and come to grips with the pain before he sat up and looked himself over. As he’d hoped, the glass hadn’t found its way into anywhere soft and squishy and not protected by armor or combat boots. He had not, however, hoped for his ankle to scream in protest when he tried to get to his feet.

“Well, this is already off to a great start,” he muttered as he tugged the boot off to get a better look at it.

Roy’s voice crackled over the comm. “Jesus Christ, Hood, it hasn’t even been ten seconds. What did you do?”

Jason prodded at his ankle and let out a sigh of relief along with a grunt of pain. “Hit the window wrong. On the bright side, looks like it’s just a sprain, not a fracture. Guess you might get to be useful after all.”

“Looks like Starfire gets to be useful, too, when she flies you back instead of letting you stumble around like a stubborn idiot.”

Jason opened his mouth to protest, but his brain kicked in before he could. It _would_ be a really stupid idea to try and make his escape on foot with a sprained ankle. And once they had the information they needed, it wouldn’t matter _that_ much if people knew they’d been there.

With the help of a couch to lean his weight on, Jason managed to get to his feet. A few experimental steps showed that the plan was going to need a couple adjustments when the time came for threats, but he’d manage. He had to.

“Don’t get ahead of yourself,” he grunted into the comm as he limped his way over to Byers’ desk and computer. “We don’t know what kind of alarms my entrance set off. Keep your eyes peeled for uninvited guests.”

“Got it. Just make it quick.”

Jason booted up the computer and connected it to his phone (and all the useful apps stored within) with a USB cable. “That depends on how much Byers has to hide.”


	6. Success, Technically

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning for non-explicit mentions of grooming and child pornography.

Byers, it turned out, had quite a bit to hide. He actually had way more to hide than Jason actually needed. Sure, one inappropriate Facebook conversation with one underage girl could have an innocent explanation. Twenty was a lot harder to justify, but still possible with a good enough lawyer. The folder of photos, however, would take a fucking miracle.

Jason’s disgust and rage must have been palpable over the comm, because Roy asked, “Status update?”

Jason forced his jaw to unclench and said, “Hypothetically speaking, if you saw Byers fall out the window, would you be willing to testify that he jumped?”

“What did you find?”

Jason took a deep breath and tried to calm himself down. There were lots of reasons to let Byers live. He couldn’t tell them anything if he was dead. It would be a lot harder to prove Roy’s innocence when the opposition had a dead federal agent for ammunition. Bruce would be disappointed. Alfred would be disappointed. Everyone would be disappointed. All the time Jason had spent trying to fit himself back into his family, jagged edges and all, would be for nothing.

But there were twenty reasons to throw all of that away, and Jason got the feeling that if he let Roy know the truth, he’d give him the final push he needed to go through with it.

“Never mind,” he said. “I’ll just wait until after he’s told us what we need to know to throw his ass in prison.”

“You sure you don’t want to wait until we can add as many charges as possible to his sheet?”

Shit. Roy had a point. But who knew how long it would take for everything to come to light? How many more people could Byers hurt before then?

Unless, of course, Jason made sure he was non-lethally out of commission until then. That sounded like an excellent idea, and one the Bats would have no problem with. Or, at least, no problem that wouldn’t make them into huge hypocrites considering the damage they inflicted on a daily basis.

“Oh, fine, party pooper,” he said aloud, unplugging his phone and putting it back in his pocket. He had all the data he was comfortable having anywhere near his vicinity. He’d sent the rest to one of the email accounts he never used anymore, where they could be safely stored without being found by anyone scrolling through his phone. The ‘it’s evidence’ argument only worked on a very specific subset of people.

Roy groaned. “Do you realize how worrying it is that you’re making _me_ the wet blanket?”

“It’s a talent,” Jason replied. He tried getting to his feet again. If he leaned against the desk and crossed his sprained foot in front of his good one, he could pull off being threatening. Or maybe he should just stay in the chair and dramatically spin around once Byers walked in? That was a classic. “How long do I have until the guest of honor arrives?”

“Let me check.”

Nothing but silence came over the line as Roy, presumably, went through different frequencies listening for anything interesting.

Eventually, he came back and said, “Sounds like he’s on his way. And he’s bringing company. You sure you don’t want to just get away now and blackmail him later?”

“I’m sure,” said Jason firmly. “And don’t start picking them off until they’re on this floor. Don’t want them running off. You can aim through the hall window, right?”

“Don’t worry, you won’t have to deal with anyone but Byers,” said Roy. His confidence was on the cusp of cockiness, but only on the cusp. He’d be able to pull it off.

With that taken care of, Jason scanned the apartment for a good blunt instrument to use. He could beat the shit out of Byers with his bare hands, sure, but the temptation to just throttle him and/or snap his neck might be too much for him. There was a heavy-looking armchair he could break a leg off of. That would probably alert the neighbors before he was ready, though. The last thing he wanted was civilians getting caught in the crossfire.

He got to his feet again and tried taking a step on his bad ankle. He succeeded, and he just barely managed to resist the urge to cry from the pain of it, so he considered it even more of a success. So long as he didn’t need to take more than a couple steps, he should be able to hide his injury just fine. For now, though, while he was alone and gathering his strength, he preferred to awkwardly limp/hop his way around the apartment looking for something suitable.

Eventually, while rifling through the closet, he found a baseball bat. Perfect. They were so good at hitting people that Jason couldn’t even remember the last time he’d seen someone use one to actually play baseball. Then again, that might just be because he spent a lot more time getting attacked than watching sports.

He made his way back to the desk and collapsed into the seat. He had some time to rest, right?

“Incoming,” Roy warned over the comm. “Byers and five friends. Just walking into the building now. Whatever you’re gonna do, get ready for it.”

Jason made sure to mute himself before he swore. That’s what he got for being hopeful. Once the initial panic faded, he leaned the baseball bat against the desk and spun around in the chair to look at the computer again. After a few moments of internal debate, he decided to open up a game of solitaire while he waited. The more at ease and comfortable he seemed, the better.

The only warning Jason received that they’d arrived on the floor was the sound of shattering glass and a yelp of pain. As a series of more cries, thuds, and some electric sizzling approached, Jason found it more and more difficult to focus on the game. When it got too much, he pulled out a gun and set it down on the desk next to the mouse. It would take him less than a second to grab it. That made him feel a lot better.

He felt an odd sort of grim calm when the door finally slammed open and shut behind him. He waited until the slide of feet turning and abrupt halt in panting breaths signaled Byers had turned around and spotted him. He grabbed hold of his gun, pointed it behind him at the source of the sound, and spun around in the chair to see if his aim was right. As expected, it was. Any sudden movement on Byers’ part would be met with a bullet to the abdomen.

“Hello, Grant,” said Jason. “Nice to finally meet you. I’ve heard so much about you.”

Byers’ eyes darted around the room, looking for some sort of advantage. Jason had already made sure he wouldn’t find any during his search for the bat. “I assume you’re with Harper,” he said, quite calm for somebody with a gun pointed at him. Maybe non-Bat training wasn’t totally shit after all.

Jason gave a small shrug, making sure to keep his aim steady as he did so. “For the moment. Heard you used to work with him, too. Do you betray all your buddies and leave them to die, or is he just special?”

“The only traitor here is Harper,” Byers claimed. Jason genuinely couldn’t tell whether or not he actually believed it. Maybe he really was rusty.

Jason scratched the chin of his helmet thoughtfully with his free hand. “Okay, let’s say he _is_ a traitor. What was it he did to get that title, exactly?”

“Let me guess,” Byers sighed. “He told you this is all a horrible set-up and he didn’t do anything wrong?”

“Yup,” said Jason, popping the p. “And let me save some time by saying a piece of shit like you isn’t going to convince me otherwise. Not after I had a little peek at some of your… correspondence.”

Byers’ confidence cracked. Jason didn’t need telepathy to hear the silent swears bouncing around in his head.

Jason shifted the aim of his gun directly at Byers’ head. “Now, if this were another day, your brains would already be leaking out into the carpet.” No need to mention that ‘another day’ was months ago and unlikely to happen again anytime soon. “Luckily for you, today it’s more useful to me inside your skull. So how about it continues to be useful and tells me what the fuck you’re trying to pull?”

Byers’ eyes darted between the gun and the computer. “Nobody would believe you,” he said. “Who’d believe some faceless murderer over a respected federal agent?”

Jason was quite proud of the restraint he showed in not shooting him then and there. _Nobody would believe you._ How many times had this scumbag said those words? How many times had they been right? _No, easy there, Jason, don’t think about that now. Save it for when he’s done talking._

“Oh, I have my ways,” Jason said, sweet and fake as a sugar substitute. “If you won’t tell me the truth, I’ll just have to guess. First off, you’re not the one in charge. You’re just following the orders of some bigwig who’s probably giving you enough money under the table to pay for, oh, let’s say twenty out-of-court settlements? I’m sure such a noble employer would happily stand by your side should certain truths become known to the public. It’s not like they’ve already proven willing to throw people to the wolves when it suits them.”

“You’re bluffing,” said Byers, but the cracks had spread and it was obvious they both knew the jig was up.

Jason realized a raised eyebrow wouldn’t be visible behind the helmet, so he tilted his head instead. “Do you really want to risk it?”

Byers thought it over. Jason had him between a rock and a hard place, and he knew it. Snitch and end up in a ditch, or become a loose end and probably end up in a ditch anyway. “I won’t give you any names,” he said eventually. “They won’t do you any good anyway without some titanium-solid evidence.”

It was better than nothing, at least. “And where might I find this evidence?” Jason asked.

“It’s… Look, I don’t have the exact GPS coordinates memorized.” Byers gestured to the computer. “If I may?”

Shit. Jason had been hoping he wouldn’t have to get up until it was time to use the bat. “Fine,” he growled, getting up and using every last ounce of discipline he had to keep the pain from showing anywhere other than his face, safely hidden inside his helmet.

His discipline got further exercise as he forced himself to stand steadily as Byers approached the desk, gun carefully following him the whole way. As soon as he’d sat down, Jason leaned against the back of the chair and held the gun directly to his temple.

Byers’ hands only shook slightly as he opened up Google Earth. As they waited for it to load, he said, “You know you’ll be lucky to make it out of this alive, right?”

Jason shrugged. “Comes with the job.”

_And death isn’t so bad._

If Byers sensed Jason tense as he mentally berated himself for thinking things like that again, it didn’t distract him. Maybe he thought it was just Red Hood (or whatever name he was calling him, since Jason never actually introduced himself) struggling against the urge to kill him then and there. Jason hoped that was the case.

Jason had to resist the urge to whistle the Jeopardy theme song while Byers zoomed in and looked for… whatever it was he was looking for. Sure, a certain amount of light-heartedness showed that he was confident and unafraid, but at a certain point it just made you hard to take seriously, and Jason needed to be taken seriously. So, he contented himself with drumming his fingers on the back of the chair, right near Byers’ ear. That should send the message of ‘I don’t have all day’ clearly enough.

Roy’s voice came through the comm again. “Cavalry’s here. I’m on it.”

It was a good thing Roy warned him, because if he’d heard sudden screaming from the hall without knowing what it was, he would’ve gotten distracted, and Byers might very well have taken advantage of that distraction. As it was, the only one distracted was Byers himself, eyes wide and confidence nearly completely fractured.

“You didn’t tell me you invited friends to our party? I’m hurt, Grant,” Jason said in a monotone.

It was amazing how quickly Byers was able to locate his objective when he wasn’t stalling for backup. “There,” he said, pointing at what appeared to be a perfectly ordinary mountain in a desert. “The weapons are located there, or at least what’s left of them. You’ll probably find something useful. Are we done?”

Jason pulled out his phone and took a photo of the coordinates with his free hand. “Not quite yet,” he said as he put it back in his pocket and grabbed the baseball bat.

Byers tried to get away, but away from the bat meant going towards the gun at his temple. He had enough reason to realize which one was the more active threat and froze long enough for the bat to make contact with his head. He didn’t scream. Jason knew exactly how much force was needed to knock someone out without killing them. Nice as it would be to have him awake and aware for this, there wasn’t any need to scare the neighbors more than they already were.

Jason pulled the chair back as Byers crumpled, falling down onto the floor in a heap. Jason regarded him for a moment, calculating exactly which bones he should break. He put the gun back in its holster and replaced it with the end of the baseball bat. It bounced against his palm as he thought.

_Thump. Thump. Thump._

_He couldn’t bring himself to open his eyes. It wasn’t like he’d see much, anyway. One was swollen shut, and the other was on the way. He didn’t want to know if the faint thump was from the Joker bouncing the crowbar against his palm, or if it was his own heartbeat getting fainter. He hoped it was the latter. If he was dying, he should pass out soon. The pain would go away, and he’d wake up back at the Batcave with Bruce by his side, or… or he’d never wake up at all, and that had to be better than this, anything was better than –_

“What are you doing, Hood?”

Roy’s voice dragged him back to reality, where he was still standing above an unconscious fed who probably had more backup on the way. He wasn’t in a warehouse. He wasn’t holding a crowbar. He wasn’t the one on the ground. The one on the ground deserved it. He… He wasn’t…

Jason knew he couldn’t deliver the beatdown he’d planned. If he tried, he’d either throw up partway through or go too far. He’d have to make it quick.

He raised the bat above his head and brought it down on Byers’ hip with enough force to (hopefully) break his pelvis. That should make even thinking about his dick hurt, much less putting it to use. By the time it healed, he should be rotting in prison.

“What the fuck, Hood?”

Oh, right. A world existed beyond the apartment, including a very confused and pissed off Roy.

“Just finishing up,” Jason said brightly, trying very hard to not let his voice shake and not entirely succeeding. “You got Starfire’s ETA?”

“I’ll patch her through,” said Roy, in a tone that made it clear he still wasn’t okay with what Jason had just done but wouldn’t get into it until they were all safe. “Hey, Star, Hood’s on the line. We’re ready to go when you are.”

“I am on the way,” said Kori. “Did you succeed in your task?”

“Not as much as I’d-“ Jason’s words dissolved into a hiss of pain when he accidentally put pressure on his sprained ankle. “As I’d like, but I got something.”

“Are you injured?” Kori asked, alarmed.

“Sprained his ankle ten seconds in,” Roy reported gleefully.

Jason arrived at the window and glared at the glass remaining in the frame. “Hey, I didn’t realize the glass would be that tough! Byers must’ve had it reinforced or something.”

“Sure he did,” said Roy.

“We may bicker once we have reached safety,” said Kori. “If you look to the east, you should be able to see me now.”

Jason stuck his head out of the window, and sure enough there was a Starfire-shaped Unidentified Flying Object soaring towards them. “I see you.” He waved to make sure Kori noticed him.

Within a minute, she’d come to a stop in front of him. She frowned as she caught sight of Byers’ crumpled form. “What happened?”

Jason might have just imagined the sound of footsteps coming down the hall, but he’d rather not risk it. “I’ll explain later,” he said, holding out his arms and trying not to feel like a small child asking for a piggyback ride as Kori carefully pulled him through the window and tucked him under one arm.

He tried not to focus on the sensation of flying as she went to pick up Roy. It brought back too many memories. Instead, he tried to focus on what he’d learned, aside from what a piece of shit Byers was. They had the location of the weapons. Or maybe just the location of a trap. Either way, it would probably have some leads. And if it didn’t, there was always the syndicate’s HQ.

The minute Kori had Roy under her other arm and was flying back toward the ship, Roy said over the comm (the wind whistling past would have made normal conversation impossible), “So, are we gonna talk about what happened back there?”

Damn it. Jason was hoping he could put this off for a little longer. “I got some info and I didn’t kill him. What more did you expect from me?”

Roy was not amused. “Gee, I dunno, maybe letting us know before you get sidetracked and possibly jeopardize the mission? You were supposed to get in, get the info, then get out as fast as possible. What would you have done if somebody slipped past me while you were focused on Byers?”

“You said you had my back. I trusted you. Is that a bad thing now?”

Kori spoke up before Roy could. “Would you two please explain to me precisely what happened?”

“I took ten seconds to make sure Byers wouldn’t cause any more damage,” said Jason.

“He means he beat him up when he was already unconscious,” Roy translated.

“It was one swing,” Jason defended himself. “I don’t think that counts as ‘beating up’.”

“He was already unconscious,” Roy snapped. “Why did…”

He lapsed into silence. Jason turned to look at him to make sure his injuries hadn’t suddenly flared up and knocked him out. Nope, he was staring right back at him with a thoughtful expression.

“What, exactly, did you blackmail him with?” Roy asked. The sense of dread in the words was palpable.

Jason considered saying nothing, or just being as vague as possible. But the mind had a way of jumping to the worst conclusions, and as bad as the truth was it wasn’t as bad as whatever Roy’s head would cook up to fill in the gaps. “Oh, you know, the usual. Sexting with minors, child pornography, the works. By paedophile standards, it was pretty vanilla.”

He kept his eyes firmly on the horizon so he didn’t have to see Roy’s expression. It wasn’t going to be pleasant.

Kori broke the silence. “Technically speaking, it was unwise of you to risk the mission and yourself in such a way. However, I believe we have all allowed our sense of justice to cloud our rationality before. I appreciate the restraint you showed.”

It wasn’t restraint. It was just him trying to avoid a panic attack. Not that he was going to say that out loud. He’d already shown way too much weakness.

“It was still stupid,” Roy grumbled.

“You say that as if you have never done anything similar,” Kori teased.

“Yeah, and it’s stupid when I do it, too.”

Jason looked back at Roy and smirked, for all the good it did behind a helmet. “So, does that mean I get to yell at you next time you do something stupid?”

Roy sighed. “Yeah, yeah, have at it. Dick isn’t around to do it, and you’re… You’d be continuing the family tradition.”

_You’re supposed to be his replacement, right?_

Jason was probably just putting words in his mouth. He’d probably been going to say something totally different. But if what he wanted to say wouldn’t hit a nerve, why did he change it? At times like this, Jason missed telepathy. At least then if he decided to continue not knowing for sure it was his choice.

He glared up at the sky and thought, _That’s not an invitation, Phoenix. Stay away._

Finally, they arrived back at the ship. The moment they were inside, Lian came running down the hall and threw herself at Roy. “Daddy, I drew a really good picture! Wanna see?”

It was astonishing how quickly Roy’s expression changed from tired and grumpy to happy and loving as he ruffled her hair. “Sorry, sweetheart, the grown-ups have a meeting first. I’ll see it after, okay?”

Lian sighed and pouted, but she said, “Fine,” and walked back to her room without any fuss.

“You sure it can’t wait?” Jason asked, slumping back against the wall. Now that the danger was gone, the adrenaline was leaving him, too. Leaving him empty save for exhaustion. How long had it been since he’d had that nap? How long had it been since he’d had proper sleep? He couldn’t remember.

“It is best to give reports while the memories are fresh,” said Kori, offering him a hand.

As much as Jason hated it, she was right. Sleep would have to wait, like it always did. He’d rather have it wait as little as possible, so he took her hand and leaned against her as they made their way back to the meeting room. It was faster than leaning on the wall. And it wasn’t like he had much dignity left to salvage in their eyes.

He was a little rusty at giving mission reports, but it was still close to second nature for him. He barely had to think as he recounted the (relevant) details. Between the familiarity, the exhaustion, and the pain from his ankle, it was honestly all a bit of a blur. By the time he was dismissed, he couldn’t even remember who it was that dismissed him, or a single full sentence anyone had said.

He was, however, fairly certain that Kori said to follow her (or something along those lines), so he did so. She led him to another room, one that was very clearly a medbay. She gestured for him to take a seat on a cot near a strange machine he didn’t recognize and pressed a button on it.

The machine whirred to life and said, in a pleasant monotone, “Hello, Princess Koriand’r. How may I assist you?”

“This is Red Hood,” said Kori. “He says he sprained his ankle. Check him over for any other injuries, as well.”

Jason opened his mouth to say that he had no other injuries, but he stopped short when the machine… unfolded? Was that the right word? Whatever the correct descriptor was, there was suddenly a robotic arm reaching towards his boot. Luckily, he remembered Roy mentioning the medical robot before he tried kicking it.

The robot gently pulled his boot off and poked around at his ankle. Well, as gently as a machine could poke an injury, at least. Despite himself, Jason found himself wishing he were back in the Batcave. There, it would be Alfred checking him over, and he knew how to deal with Alfred. He’d whine, Alfred would rebuke him, he’d whine more, Alfred would promise extra portions of whatever he was baking that night, and then… Well, he supposed they couldn’t really talk about school anymore. Damn, had it really been that long since he’d been able to go to the Batcave when he was injured?

He got dragged out of his thoughts by a light getting shone in his eyes. He reeled back and, once he’d blinked the stars away, glared at Kori. “I don’t need a check-up, Kori. I’d know if I was injured besides the ankle.”

“I know,” said Kori. “The question is if you would tell us about it.”

Jason opened his mouth to say he wasn’t an idiot like Dick, he wouldn’t keep an injury secret when it could affect the mission. Then he remembered, yes, he absolutely would do that, and they all knew it.

“Fine,” he grumbled. The robot retreated for a moment, and he took the opportunity to lift his feet up to lay down properly on the cot. From this position, he could see yet another screen hung on the wall. “I don’t suppose inter-galactic cable is any good?”

Kori disappeared from his view for a moment, and the robot arm returned with a bandage. As it wrapped the bandage around his ankle, she returned and handed him a remote.

“What do you wish to watch?” she asked.

Jason thought it over for a moment. “Any melodramatic space soaps?” he asked. “I like watching people whose lives suck even more than mine.”

Kori took the remote from him, pressed a few buttons, and the screen flickered to life to show two aliens screaming at each other, with subtitles informing him that they were arguing about some sort of switched-at-birth shenanigans. Perfect.

He wasn’t sure when Kori left, or when the robot finished its work and went back to sleep. He wasn’t sure when he fell asleep, either, but he definitely did.


	7. Time to Breathe

Jason woke up in a bunk, tucked under the covers and with his helmet, armor, boots, and (visible) weapons removed. He panicked for a split-second before remembering he was among friends (or at least nice acquaintances), and even if he weren’t, he doubted anyone with ill intentions would tuck him in.

Still, out of habit he kept his eyes closed and breathing even as he listened for anything suspicious. All he found was the muffled hum of the ship’s engine and the deep, even breathing of at least two people asleep nearby. He opened his eyes and relaxed again when he determined it was just Roy and Kori. It looked like Roy had gotten his bandages re-wrapped. Jason’s detail-obsessed brain noticed the pattern was different.

Seeing it reminded him he should probably check on his own injury. His ankle didn’t hurt anymore, though it did feel rather heavy, stifled, and cold. He shifted his blanket to get a better look. It looked like the robot doctor had put a proper brace on it, along with what he assumed to be some sort of weird space icepack.

He sat up, moved the icepack, and swung his legs over the side of the bed. One deep breath later, he tentatively rose to his feet. Still not exactly pleasant, but it felt a lot better than before. He’d dealt with worse. Even so, he made sure to put the majority of his weight on his healthy foot as he made his way over to the lockers to look for his jacket. It wasn’t really cold enough to necessitate one, but it had his phone in the pocket, and he didn’t know how the TV worked, so he didn’t have anything else to do besides wake everyone up and bother them.

Luckily, the locker doors were pretty quiet, so he was able to retrieve his jacket without waking anyone. He quickly made his way to the lounge to make sure all his hard work at being quiet wasn’t ruined by a text notification or Bruce forcefully hacking his phone to force him to accept the call and listen to his yelling.

He sat down on the couch and stared at his dark reflection in the screen. He’d turned the phone off during the mission (not much use for it when you had comms), and he hadn’t turned it on since. It was just a single button. It shouldn’t be difficult. But if he turned it on, then he’d have to see all the notifications of the texts Bruce (and probably the others) had no doubt left for him despite how stupidly dangerous contacting someone on the run was. Sure, they’d probably taken precautions, but it was still stupid.

He pressed the button. He resisted the urge to throw the phone against the wall while he waited for it to boot up. He saw the little, innocent text icon pop up on the screen. He opened it. If he thought of it one step at a time, he could do it. Everything was easier when you broke it down into steps.

Bruce’s convo was, obviously, at the top of the list. Jason would have to check the others to be sure, but he suspected Bruce was both the first to try contacting him and the most recent. It was pretty much what he’d expected. First just calmly asking where he was and what he was doing, gradually growing more and more worried and stern. Jason could pinpoint the exact five-minute interval where he must have heard at least some of the truth, because worried and stern transformed into ‘Get back here right now or so help me’. And then, when that didn’t work, it went into worried and desperate. He actually said _please._ Well, wrote it, but still. Very worrying.

Not even Batman was able to keep talking to the void forever (or maybe he’d just gotten word that Jason was going on an actual mission and didn’t want to risk screwing it up), and eventually he’d given up. Mostly. His last text just reminded him that their messages were encrypted and thus further contact, if Jason wished to make it, would not be an issue.

The urge to correct someone was stronger than the urge to avoid contact, so Jason typed, _I don’t think O would agree._

It was only after he’d hit send that he realized he may have just fallen for some reverse psychology. Bruce must have picked up some new parenting tricks over the years.

 _Maybe he’s asleep,_ Jason hoped. The phone claimed it was about five in the morning, but the sun shining through the window was far too bright for that. Then again, who knew where Kori had parked the ship? Whatever the case, he hoped that back in Gotham it was one of the few hours where Bruce’s brain finally powered down and rested.

His hopes, as always, were dashed. Bruce responded in almost record time. _Are you all right?_

Jason considered lying. Even over text, though, he suspected Bruce would be able to tell. _Sprained my ankle, but I got to beat up a pedo, so it evens out._

It took a little longer for Bruce to respond, which was never a good sign. _Have you gotten it treated?_

 _Yep. Kori’s got a doctor robot on the ship._ He paused, rested his sprained foot on the couch, and put the icepack back on so that he’d be telling the truth. _I’ve got ice on it and everything._

Another pause. _Would it be all right if I called you?_

Jason did not pause. _No._ In his book, communication was best when both sides had to think about what they said before they said it. Especially for Jason, and especially with Bruce.

 _Okay._ More pauses. Great. _How did you sprain your ankle?_

_Hit a sturdy window from the wrong angle._

_We told you you weren’t mission ready._

Jason took a deep breath so he didn’t smash his phone. _Well, it’s a little late for that now, now isn’t it?_

_It doesn’t have to be. Come home. O wiped every trace of you. So long as you stay out of trouble, you’ll be fine._

Jason had to actually put the phone down so he didn’t break it in his hand. Or break his hand on it. It was a pretty tough phone. Had to be, when his dad kept saying stupid shit like _that._ Didn’t he get it? Jason wasn’t doing this for himself. Well, mostly. And the part that was self-interest was about chasing that sweet, sweet adrenaline high, not self-preservation.

An annoying Bruce-shaped voice in his head murmured, _That high isn’t quite so sweet now, though, is it? Not when things go wrong. And they almost always go wrong._

He shook himself and picked up the phone again. _I made my choice. I’m sticking by it. Roy needs all the help he can get._

_You aren’t ready for this, Jason._

That had Jason fuming too much to form a response before Bruce added another one to the pile.

_Please._

Jason put the phone back in his pocket. He couldn’t deal with this right now. Not until he calmed down and could believe Bruce’s guilt-tripping was unintentional. That he wasn’t using love as a weapon to get Jason back in line. Not on purpose. _Fuck_ , how come the world’s greatest detective couldn’t even deduce how to not constantly blindside and upset his own kids?

He checked his other texts for anything useful. He didn’t find anything. Just panic, worry, panicked worry, and worried anger. No, thank you. He shoved the phone back in his pocket and lay back on the couch.

He wasn’t sure if he fell asleep again or just zoned out, but next thing he knew little footsteps were thundering towards him. His eyes snapped open and his fingers instinctively wrapped around the hilt of the knife in one of his pockets. He relaxed again when Lian bounded into view, grinning.

“Hi, Jason!” she said brightly. “Do you wanna go boogieboarding?”

“Boogieboarding?” Jason repeated. Was he still dreaming? Of all the words he was expecting to hear today, ‘boogieboarding’ was not one of them.

“Yeah, it’s really fun! It’s kind of like surfing, except you’re lying down,” Lian explained.

“Sorry, kid, don’t feel up to it today,” he said, gesturing to his leg brace. “Try asking your dad.”

“He and Aunt Kori are still asleep,” she said. “Do you think they’d get mad if I woke them up?”

Jason couldn’t imagine anyone ever being mad at her, but no need to let it get to her head. He got up to his feet (with only minimal leaning against the couch) and said, “How about we make them breakfast first? Do you know where Kori keeps the pancake mix?”

Lian was all smiles again as she led him to the kitchen and pointed to where everything was. He wondered how much time she’d spent on the ship to know all this, and how many times he’d managed to con her dad/aunts/uncles into making her pancakes. He’d have to keep his guard up around her. Resisting the urge to spoil cute children had never been part of his training.

Kori walked in while Jason was flipping the first pancake over. It was a lot paler than he preferred, but it shouldn’t give anyone salmonella, so he considered it a success.

“You are making pancakes?” Kori asked, surprised.

Jason turned to look at her and rolled his eyes. “No, clearly I’m writing a fu-“ Shit, right, Lian was right there. “-dging symphony. What does it look like I’m doing?”

“I simply… did not expect it,” said Kori, sitting down at the table next to Lian. “Though, I suppose I should have.”

Jason wasn’t sure how to react to that (mostly because he wasn’t sure what it was supposed to mean in the first place), so instead he focused on the pancakes.

“Can we go boogieboarding today?” Lian asked. “You said we could.”

“After we eat,” Kori promised. “However, I do not think your father or Jason are well enough to join us.”

Lian sighed and glared down at Jason’s brace as if it were personally responsible for injuring him. “Okay.”

Eventually, four pancakes were ready, and Lian went off to wake up Roy.

The moment she was out of earshot, Jason glared at Kori and asked, “Why the fuck are you taking her boogieboarding? Now isn’t the time for a vacation.”

Kori was unmoved by his glare. “Actually, now is the perfect time for one. Both you and Roy are injured and require time to heal. As you are now, you would do more harm than good on a mission.”

“We don’t have time to heal!” Jason snapped, slamming a fist down on the table. “We don’t know how long those weapons are going to be there, and Byers or his boss is definitely going to try and stop us. The longer we wait, the harder it’s going to be.”

“Whatever they try, we can handle it,” Kori assured him. “Just try to relax, all right? It will be good for you.”

Once upon a time, Jason could have safely ignored any semblance of self-care and gone diving right back in to danger. But _no,_ he was trying to be better and improve himself and go to therapy and shit. Ugh. Stupid fucking family and their hopes and care for his well-being.

“Whatever,” he grumbled.

Any further conversation (or, more likely, arguments) was put on hold by Lian and Roy walking into the room. Roy’s eyes immediately zeroed in on the stack of pancakes sitting on the counter. “Only one each?” he whined.

Jason pointed at the mixing bowl. “If you want more, be my guest.”

One scramble for plates, cutlery, and syrup later, the four of them were sitting around the table in a scene so domestic it almost felt surreal. At least, it felt that way to Jason. Sitting down for a group meal still felt weird to him even back at the manor, much less on an alien spaceship with people he really didn’t know that well.

He was impatiently waiting for Roy to finish the next batch when a thought occurred to him. A thought so glaringly obvious that he felt like physically hitting himself for not thinking of it until now.

“Where are we, anyway?” he asked.

“Uetov IV,” said Kori. “It is… a resort planet, I believe you would call it. I have rented a small island for us for the week.”

Jason relaxed a bit. Another planet. All right. That was actually a good place to be. Way less chance of angry feds or Quraci criminals tracking them down. And obviously communicating with everyone back on Earth wouldn’t be an issue, considering he’d been able to text with Bruce just fine. He wondered how that worked.

True to her word, Kori took Lian out for boogieboarding as soon as they were finished eating. Well, as soon as Roy was finished lecturing them about riptides and alien sharks and all the other dangers that could be lurking in the depths.

That left Jason and Roy alone in the kitchen/dining/meeting room, and as much as Jason would like to leave and mope on his own, it would probably be pretty rude. No need to go antagonizing his teammates. He’d already done enough of that yesterday. Speaking of which…

“Still mad at me about yesterday?” he asked harshly. It was too early for weakness, pancakes or not.

Roy sighed. “Yeah, I guess we need to talk. I… might have overreacted.”

Jason blinked a few times to make sure he wasn’t dreaming. He wasn’t used to other people admitting fault.

“If I were in your shoes, I would have done the same thing,” Roy continued, a dark look in his eye. “Hell, I probably would have gone a lot farther. I just… You weren’t there after you died. Either time. So, you’ll have to take my word that I would really, _really_ rather not have to see that happen again. I’d also rather not have Batman and Dick both beat the shit out of me for letting it happen.”

Jason tried to swallow down the sour taste on his tongue. Of course that was the reason. Of course he wasn’t just worried about Jason getting hurt. It was all about Dick, or Bruce, and how it would affect _them_. Never mind the fact that Jason would be dead again. Or, worse, the Phoenix completely steamrolling his wishes and bringing him back again and… and…

Jason got to his feet and shrugged, unable to bring himself to make eye contact. “I’ll take your word for it, I guess. Wouldn’t want to inconvenience anyone with my own slow, painful death. Next time, I’ll let the creep go and send you the details of all the kids he hurts after.”

He stormed out before Roy could say anything, the pain from his food drowned out by rage.

Once again, his self-improvement kick proved to be to his detriment, as it barely took him a dozen steps for the rage to fade away and leave him with no emotional painkillers but slight guilt, which was about as useful as some MLM essential oils. He still felt too restless to sit down and ice his ankle like he probably should, so he went back to the medbay and rifled through until he found some crutches.

He needed to do something. Something productive, or at least something with the illusion of productivity. He pulled out his phone again and checked if Babs had sent him any more intel. Nothing. So, nothing he could do on the ship, other than try and talk things through with either Roy or Bruce, neither of which would go well with him in this state. Outside it was, then. Getting to know his surroundings and patrolling the area would be very productive.

As soon as he set foot outside, he could see why someone would turn the planet into a resort. White sand, blue skies, turquoise water, green trees. If it weren’t for the fact that those trees were not from Earth (unless Jason wasn’t as well-versed in flora as he thought), it could have passed for a postcard. The complete lack of any visible civilization in sight save for the ship was a bonus, too.

Kori and Lian were sitting on the ground nearby, clearly not boogieboarding. It looked like they were braiding each other’s hair. Kori had even willed the flames in her hair to die down to make it safe to touch, or at least Jason assumed that was what she’d done. Lian was facing the ship, so she was the one that spotted him first and gave him a wave.

Escape at this point would be rude and hurt Lian’s feelings, so Jason heaved a surreptitious sigh and limped his way over to them. “No boogieboarding?” he asked once he was in earshot.

“We’re waiting for my swimsuit,” said Lian, focus returning to the braid.

Kori looked back at him and caught his confused expression. “The administration allows you to order items and have them delivered to your location,” she explained.

All right. Made sense. Why pass up the opportunity to make money off your guests forgetting to pack things? Good to see capitalism was a universal concept. Well, not really, but at least it was familiar and understandable.

“Okay, you guys have fun,” said Jason. “I’m going to take a look around.”

There wasn’t much to look at. Just more trees and beaches and complete lack of other people. The island was small enough that he could walk around the entire perimeter before he got too hungry. So, probably about twelve or so miles. Probably less, considering his walking speed was hampered by his crutches. Just big enough for a small group to run around free range.

By the time he reached the ship again, he felt a lot calmer. Also, a lot more hungry and tired and sore. It had been a long walk, and his crutch technique was a little rusty. When he walked onto the ship and the smell of lunch wafted from the dining room, he found that the idea of sitting down and eating was more than worth having to be in the general vicinity of Roy.

He stumbled into the dining room and, indeed, found all three of them sitting around the table eating hot dogs. Lian’s hair was still wet, and she had a towel wrapped around her. Looked like she got some boogieboarding in after all. Kori looked completely dry, but that might have just been a solar energy thing. Jason certainly never had to worry about drying off back when he had pyrokinesis.

Thankfully, Kori interrupted that train of thought before it drive off a cliff. “Ah, there you are,” she said. “We were beginning to worry.”

Jason shrugged and sat down in front of the plate already set out for him. “Sorry. Needed to cool off.”

Lian frowned. “Did you get in a fight?”

The hunger and soreness must have really gotten to him, because Jason couldn’t stop his gaze from flickering over to Roy.

Lian noticed and turned her frown on her dad. “Daddy, did you get in a fight with Jason?”

“Hey, _he_ got in a fight with _me!”_ Roy objected.

Jason… yeah, okay, he _did_ start it. And escalate it. And storm off without resolving it. “Don’t worry about it, Lian,” he said.

Lian continued to worry about it. “When people fight, they need to apologize,” she said sternly, probably parroting a character from some cartoon with morals and shit.

Jason sighed and looked over at Roy. “Fine. I’m sorry I got mad. However, while I admit what I did was stupid, I am not going to apologize for it, and I’m not going to promise I won’t do it again.”

Roy shrugged it off. “Eh, like I said, I probably would have done the same. Just make sure to be quick about it, okay?”

“Okay.” Jason looked back at Lian. “There. Is that satisfactory?”

“What does satisfactory mean?” Lian asked.

“Was the apology good enough?” Roy translated.

Lian thought it over for a moment. “If Daddy’s okay with it, then it’s good enough.” With her job finished, she returned her attention to her hot dog.

Once again, Jason was surprised by how much relief he felt at settling an argument amicably. He’d been trying to do that a lot more since he came back, mostly at Doc Adrian’s insistence, but he still wasn’t used to it. It felt… unnatural. He’d been able to do it once upon a time, right? He’d managed to coexist with Bruce in the same house for four years, surely they must have talked things out. He must have unlearned it when he was with Talia, and then never felt the need to relearn it when he was on his own.

He took a bite of his hot dog. It was cold. And it had mustard. He didn’t like mustard. That got rid of his relief soon enough.

 _This vacation’s off to a great start,_ he thought to himself as he continued eating and refused to let his displeasure show, because Lian was looking at him again and he was never ever showing weakness around those puppy-dog eyes again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not like this chapter. Its filler aura mocks me. But it's all I've got, so I hope you enjoy. Hopefully next week I'll have some actual action and plot development for you all.


	8. Intermission

The next week felt like a dream. Jason did not mean that in the sense that it was wonderful. He meant it in the sense that it felt bizarre and unreal and several times a day he found himself wanting to wake up.

He’d never liked ‘leisure time’. Not that he remembered, anyway. There might have been a time when he was little, back when Willis was around to pay rent and put food on the table and Catherine was functional more days than not. That was a long time ago, though, and afterwards he had to devote every waking moment to surviving. No time for relaxing when you hadn’t eaten in two days and there were only a couple hours of daylight left before the freezing winter night hit.

And then Bruce found him and made him Robin, which did not help him learn to relax. Neither did his time with Talia, nor those months wandering the country killing people and trying not to burn the planet down to ash. Really, it was only recently he’d gotten the chance to relax, and even then he tried to fill his days with as much research, training, and chores as he could.

Relaxing meant thinking. And whenever he thought for too long, he’d end up thinking about the Phoenix, and what they’d done, and how he didn’t deserve to be sitting there relaxing when so many were still suffering from the consequences of his actions, how the only thing he deserved was –

So, no. He didn’t like leisure time. And here on the island, there was little else to fill the days.

There weren’t many chores to do on the ship, and Kori insisted on the few there were being shared amongst all of them. Babs didn’t send any more intel, and when Jason swallowed his pride and asked she threatened to sic Alfred on him if he didn’t relax and let his ankle heal. The intel he already had refused to grant any new insights no matter how many times he reviewed it. His ability to train was severely limited by his ankle. His ability to patrol the island was also severely limited.

So, yeah, not a very good dream.

The only consistent distractions he had were communicating with others. He actually texted Bruce back. That was how desperate he was. As frustrating as talking with him could be, at least it was familiar. He knew which buttons to push and which to avoid. He didn’t know Kori, Roy, or Lian that way. They were still unknowns. But he didn’t have much other choice, so he talked with them.

Lian was easy. Just show interest in her drawings or books or whatever it was she was doing, and join in if you could. She was a pretty normal kid, all things considered. No big buttons that had to be avoided. Even her mom didn’t seem like too sore a subject.

Roy and Kori were trickier. They definitely had big red buttons that could lead to some nasty fireworks, quite literally in Kori’s case. For Roy, Jason made sure not to mention Cheshire, only bring up Oliver Queen to mock him, and absolutely did not suggest he try any strong painkillers no matter how many times he winced whenever he moved wrong. He didn’t know Kori’s buttons quite as well, so he generally kept conversations as light as possible and trusted her to have the self-control not to fry him the second he said something wrong.

Overall, it worked pretty well. No starbolts or punches. Just some genuine, proper bonding and shit. It was actually kind of nice. It had been too long since he interacted so much with anyone outside the Batfamily who was not his therapist. At least, it was nice until the tragedy struck. The horrific, awful, terrifying tragedy.

Roy started calling him Jaybird, and wouldn’t. Fucking. Stop. Doing it.

Jason didn’t even remember how the conversation had started. It was one of those completely inane ones where topics went in one ear and out the other without leaving a mark in his memory. All he remembered was how it ended; Roy’s eyes lighting up with an evil gleam as he said, “Whatever you say, Jaybird.”

In theory, it wasn’t a bad nickname. It fit in with the family bird theme and it wasn’t in and of itself embarrassing (if Dick called him ‘Little Wing’ one more time he was going to stab him). Yet every time Roy said it Jason got annoyed. Maybe because the name had been thrust upon him with zero warning or discussion. Maybe it was the shit-eating grin on Roy’s face whenever he said it. Maybe it was a sign of affection and friendship that Jason wasn’t emotionally prepared for.

Whatever the case, Jason did not like it, and apparently that just made it more fun for Roy. Oh, for the days when he could just shoot people without worrying about Alfred being disappointed in him.

At least his ankle felt better. He wasn’t able to test it much thanks to the little Alfred-shaped voice in his head that tutted in disappointment if he didn’t rest properly, but what little he was able to do felt much better. With luck, he might just be mission-ready by the time they got back to Earth.

The day their rental was up came far too slowly. Kori mentioned considering actually extending their stay until she was sure that Jason and Roy were both properly healed. Thankfully, between Jason and Roy’s pleading/arguing/whining and reports of some evil intergalactic empire called the Shi’ar sniffing around the area, she changed her mind and they were able to leave on schedule.

Once they were in space, Jason pulled out his phone and sent a text to Babs. _We’re on our way back. If you have any new intel, now’s the time, otherwise I’m gonna become a ghost and haunt you and mess with your wi-fi for eternity._

She responded pretty quickly. _Despite what you seem to believe, my life does not solely revolve around stopping your family from running in blind and getting shot._

_Don’t pretend you’re not a part of this family. We all know Dick’s just waiting for the perfect rom-com moment to propose in a way so sweet I will sense it and gag from the other side of the planet._

_Please, we all know he’s going to do it when he’s high on painkillers and missing half his blood._

_So, if I want to win your heart, I need to nearly die from blood loss? Excellent, without that intel I’m well on my way._

_I’ve been busy, Jay. You’re not the only one that needs me. All I can say is that nothing’s pinged my radar. So, unless they’ve gotten a hell of a lot sneakier in the last week, nothing big has changed._

_Can you at least tell me Grant Byers’ status?_ Whether he was dead or alive would be a litmus test for just how serious his boss was about the situation.

The pause this time was longer. Jason was on the cusp of asking if she was still there when she responded. _Grant Byers is currently in a coma. His condition is stable, but it is unclear when or if he will wake up._

Jason frowned and looked over his memories. He hadn’t hit him in the head that hard, had he? _Sounds fishy. Pretty sure I didn’t hit him hard enough for that._

Another pause. This time, Jason waited patiently for her reply. _Well, it is quite interesting that he was awake and aware just long enough for one of his nurses to receive quite the transfer to his accounts. Guess he thought it was more convenient to stay asleep until this blows over._

Jason understood. When you were asleep, you couldn’t answer any questions, and you wouldn’t feel it if your boss decided to snip your loose end. At least it meant he probably hadn’t had the chance to say what he told Red Hood. They didn’t have a whole lot of weapons at their disposal, and surprise was a very powerful one.

 _All right, looks like we might just get through this with our limbs still attached,_ he texted.

 _Don’t jinx it,_ Babs warned. _And don’t get cocky._

_;)_

With that, Jason put his phone away and went to hang out with Lian until it was time for the strategy meeting.

* * *

The meeting was called precisely one hour before their ETA. Though perhaps ‘meeting’ was a bit of an overstatement. Kinda hard to figure out a strategy when you had basically zero intel. Jason tried to convince Kori and Roy that the best plan was to let him sneak in and scope out the place before they started the assault proper. Kori and Roy refused, thinking it was far too risky. Jason supposed he couldn’t really blame them, considering he’d taken point on the last mission and gotten a debilitating injury ten seconds in.

What he did blame them for, however, was the plan they came up with and outvoted him on; Going in guns blazing with Kori trying to tank most of the damage while Roy and Jason provided ranged support. It wasn’t a _terrible_ plan, per se. Kori and Roy knew what they were doing in a fight. It just… It was the sort of thing Jason would have done back when he’d finally figured out how his powers worked and felt like he was invincible. It was stupid and barely similar comparison, but now it was in his head and it didn’t want to leave. It took a lot of convincing to get them to agree to at least _try_ to be sneaky about it.

With that out of the way, the meeting then changed into one about what they should do with Lian. It wasn’t like last time, where Kori only had to leave her for five minutes. They had no idea how long it would take to scour the complex for weapons and data. The risk of somebody getting through all the ship’s security was small, but still too large for comfort. And no way in hell were they bringing her anywhere close to a possible bloodbath.

The question, then, was where to leave her, and whom to leave her with. Roy was actually pretty open to the idea of taking her to Ollie, but if anyone found out his wanted criminal former foster kid’s child was staying with him and he hadn’t let the authorities know, it would _not_ look good. Endangering secret identities was a dick move, even if the one endangered was a dick themselves. So, he and the rest of the Arrow family were out of the running.

The next suggestion was leaving her with the Titans, and it was one they all agreed on. Unless they’d had any sudden changes in policy on letting outsiders wander around inside without supervision to poke and prod any weapons of mass destruction they had lying around, the odds of Lian being found were very slim.

Jason left the arrangements to Kori and Roy. His last trip into Titans Tower ended with him smashing/melting a bunch of memorial statues and nearly killing Tim. Not exactly a good precedent.

Unable to help with that, and having already pushed himself as far as was safe in training, he retreated to his bunk and idly surfed the web until something interesting happened.

It took a while. Eventually, however, the door opened and Lian walked in. “Do I really have to leave?” she whined. “I’ll be fine by myself. The ship’s really tough. And I’m only a few matches away from getting that cool cowboy hat in my game.”

He put his phone away and sat up. “That’s up to your dad, not me,” he said. “I’m sure they’ll have lots of games in the tower.”

“They won’t have Daddy,” she said, staring down at the floor with a frown and clearly trying to blink away tears.

Jason sighed to himself before he got to his feet, went over to kneel in front of her, and put a hand on her shoulder. “He’ll be back soon,” he promised. “If you don’t have so much fun with your aunts and uncles that you’ll wish you could stay longer, I’ll owe you a bottle of soda.”

Lian rubbed at her eyes and visibly mulled it over. “One of the big bottles?” she asked.

Jason nodded. “Pinky promise.”

He held out his pinky to her, and after a moment of thought she shook it with her own. With the binding pact made, Jason pulled his hand back. Just when he was about to get back to his feet, Lian leaned forward and hugged him.

“I want Pepsi,” she muttered into his ear.

Oh, boy. Hugging. Another thing he just _loved_ to do with people whose buttons he didn’t know. Especially small children who might actually take it personally and consider it the end of the world if he didn’t do it right. No need to take any risks. He wrapped his arms around her back, squeezed slightly, and patted her on the shoulder blade. There. That was good enough, right?

Apparently so, since Lian didn’t burst into tears as she pulled away. The smile she gave him was somewhat watery, but that probably wasn’t his fault. “See ya,” she said.

“See ya,” Jason agreed.

He watched her leave and tried to put the feeling that this might be the last time he saw her down to his imagination. He was just being paranoid again. Or maybe just realistic. Either way, the feeling was perfectly explainable and not necessarily a foreboding portent of doom.

It still made it impossible for him to enjoy his phone anymore, though, so he went to the kitchen to re-clean every surface he could get his hands on.

* * *

Once Lian was safely ensconced inside the Tower, surrounded by Bat-level security systems and a veritable army of protective superheroes, it didn’t take long for them to get to Qurac. They had to land quite a ways from the mountain to avoid being spotted. Once again, Jason tried not to stare out the window too much. He did not have fond memories of deserts.

After a quick strategy briefing (basically just Roy and Kori reminding Jason not to run off on his own, which he took under advisement and nothing more), it was time for them all to get their equipment ready. Some of them took longer than others. Or rather, one of them took basically no time at all thanks already having all the armor and weaponry she needed.

“Are you certain you wish to wear that jacket?” Kori asked skeptically, leaning against the wall as she waited for them to finish.

Jason paused in the process of pulling the jacket on to look down and check it had been stained or ripped or something when he wasn’t looking. “What’s wrong with it?” he asked, trying not to sound too defensive.

“We are going to be in a desert,” she reminded him. “And it is quite a walk.”

Shit. Right. Temperature was a thing Jason had to worry about now. He shrugged. “Eh, it should be pretty cool this time of year.” It was still winter, after all. Or was it spring? He couldn’t remember the exact cut-off date. Either way, he’d be fine. He could deal.

Roy joined Kori in looking skeptical, but they didn’t say anything else.

Once they were all ready, they left the ship and Kori flew them as close as she dared. With the wind whistling past, Jason felt perfectly cool and quite smug about being right.

Twenty minutes into the walk, he waited until both of them were looking the other way before he slipped the jacket off and tied it around his waist. When there was a mission at stake, he wasn’t going to give himself heatstroke just to try and prove a point.

Thankfully, nobody said anything about it. Jason’s embarrassment was already faded once they were in sight of the mountain and all dropped down for some last-minute strategy.

Roy pulled out some binoculars and scanned the mountain. “Looks like the main entrance is over there,” he said, pointing. “I see at least two guards. Probably cameras.”

“Do you see any other ways in?” Kori asked.

Roy pressed a button on the binoculars, grumbled something unintelligible but clearly unhappy, pressed another button, grumbled, and repeated the cycle until finally he said, “There. The electrical pattern’s exactly the same as the front door. Should be another door, and doesn’t look like it’s guarded. You think you can get us in, Hood?”

Jason shrugged. “Even if I can’t, Starfire can probably just melt it. Say, don’t suppose you got any extra of those binoculars?” Being able to see electric currents or whatever setting it was would be real handy.

“Focus on the mission,” Kori chided. “Arsenal, do you see any cameras?”

“Not from this far,” he said, putting the binoculars down and rising to his feet. “Let’s head in.”

As dramatic as that sounded, they didn’t actually head all the way in. Only fifty or so feet closer before they all ducked down again to avoid being seen.

Roy pulled out the binoculars and pressed the electric button, along with moving a dial that seemed to be a zoom feature. “Looks like there’s a camera pointed right at the door,” he said. “Don’t think there are any blind spots.”

Jason considered the predicament for a moment. “Can you tell if the camera’s wireless?” he asked.

Roy looked. “Hard to tell,” he said. “There’s definitely wires coming out of it, but it could just be for power. There’s way too many wires in the walls to tell what leads where, at least from this distance.”

Jason sighed. “Guess we’re doing it the old-fashioned way,” he muttered. Honestly, it wasn’t even that much more difficult, but every second counted when you were sneaking into a place teeming with well-armed bad guys.

“I presume the old-fashioned way cannot be done from a distance?” Kori sighed.

“Nope. Gotta get right in there.”

“Very well. Let us go.”

Roy kept the binoculars up as they ran towards the side door, switching between thermal and electric filters to keep an eye out for guards and cameras. Jason was impressed by how he was able to run without looking where he was going, though he and Kori still had to warn him about a couple loose rocks and dips in the ground he could trip on and completely ruin their cool entrance.

With a great deal of stopping, starting, zigging, and zagging, they arrived in the general vicinity of the door without getting shot.

Jason quickly spotted the camera protruding from the rockface. Perfect. “Don’t suppose there’s a setting on those to see the camera’s field of view?” he asked.

“Negatory, Jaybird.”

Jason ground his teeth as Kori said, “Only use codenames in the field, Arsenal.”

Roy muttered something that sounded an awful lot like ‘Worth it’. For the sake of the mission, Jason ignored it and approached the mountain, giving the camera a wide berth. Once he was face-to-face with the rock, it didn’t take him long to find some crevices and jutting bits he could use as hand and footholds. It had been a while since he’d rock climbed anything besides the climbing wall in the Batcave and the walls of the manor, but he’d be fine. Probably. Hopefully. Maybe.

He took a deep breath. He’d be fine. If he fell, Kori could swoop in and catch him. And even if she didn’t, it wasn’t much of a fall. He wouldn’t be climbing high, just enough to be sure the camera wouldn’t spot him. He’d climbed way worse than this. It would be _fine_.

Find a handhold. Move a hand. Find another. Move his other one. Find foothold. Move foot. Find another. Move his other foot. Rinse and repeat. Every journey of a thousand miles was taken one step at a time.

Many steps later, he was right above the camera. He carefully let go with one hand, made sure he could maintain his balance with only three anchor points, and reached into his pocket to pull out the Batcameraloopfeeder or whatever Bruce called it. He couldn’t really ask without admitting he’d swiped it from the Batcave when nobody was looking. He held it out between his thumb and forefinger, calculated the trajectory as best he could without exact numbers, and dropped it.

It landed right on the camera. Jason reached up to press the button on the helmet that would activate the comm (even bargain alien helmets had that feature, thankfully). “All right. Device is in place. Should feed the camera a thirty-second loop.”

“Should?” asked Roy.

Jason would have shrugged if it didn’t risk making him lose his grip and render all this effort for naught. “I dunno, man, I’m not clairvoyant,” he said into the comm. “If it doesn’t work, we’ll just have to take on an entire fortress full of well-armed bad guys. No big deal, right?”

“No,” said Kori firmly. “You yourself said such an approach would be inadvisable. If we are spotted, we shall retreat and find another approach.”

Jason rolled his eyes, but didn’t argue. As much as he hated to let an opportunity go to waste, he hated the thought of one or two or all three of them dying even more. Kori would probably be fine no matter what, but he and Roy were squishy humans that could barely take a single bullet without becoming completely useless.

His hand gripped the rock again and he did his best to count down thirty seconds. Once he was absolutely certain it had been long enough (and was decently certain it had probably been over a minute), he took a deep breath and jumped down to the ground, rolling to reduce the impact. Once he was certain he hadn’t re-sprained his ankle, he turned to Roy and Kori’s hiding spot and waved them over.

It took them a little while to arrive, so the fact that no goons came barreling out the door to shoot Jason made a pretty convincing case for the loop being successful. His smugness must have been clear through the helmet, because Roy said in a mocking tone, “Any ideas on step two, oh master of stealth?”

Jason shrugged. “Go through the door and keep your mouth shut as much as possible?”

“You ask so much of me.” Despite the flippancy, Jason could tell Roy would take it seriously.

Kori nodded in agreement, flames in her hair dying down so she wasn’t a walking, talking glowstick being waved in their enemies’ faces to let them know where they were.

Jason pulled out a gun (rubber bullets only) and willed his breathing and heartbeat to even out, and Roy nocked an arrow as Kori wrapped her fingers around the doorhandle. With one last shared look and nod, Kori shoved the door open with an unpleasant, metallic squeal and they surged inside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Holidays! I hope you enjoyed the chapter.


	9. The I in Team

For once, the mission was off to a great start. The sound of the door’s locking mechanism breaking under Kori’s strength seemed to have gone unnoticed. At least, nobody was running in to shoot at them yet. Thinking that sort of thing was only going to jinx things, though, so Jason didn’t let his hopes get uppity.

Jason scanned his surroundings. It looked, unsurprisingly, like the hallway had been carved out of the stone of the mountain, and not particularly prettily. Whoever made the place probably didn’t have the budget for both electric wires running through the rock _and_ nice-looking walls. He couldn’t see any cameras, but the lighting was pretty shit, and they might not be as obvious as the one outside.

“Arsenal, check for cameras,” he said.

“Already on it,” said Roy, raising the binoculars. “Fuck, hold on, gotta un-zoom.”

Jason tapped a foot impatiently while Roy fiddled with the settings. “All right, there we go. Not seeing any cameras around.” He pressed a button. “No people, either.”

Either nobody had been expecting intruders, or the other shoe was about to drop. Jason hoped it was the former, but he steeled himself for the latter. “See any computers or guns?” he asked.

“Unless they added a Bluetooth function, I don’t think the guns’ll show up. We’ll have to look for them the old-fashioned way,” said Roy. “Computers should show up, though, and none are around here, so let’s go.”

Kori nodded and started floating silently down the hall. Jason wondered if she had some weird Tamaranean sense of direction or if she just chose it at random. It wasn’t like he had any idea of where to go, either, and it was preferable to have the inhumanly durable one in front. So, he silently followed, eyes and ears pricked for any sign of movement or the hum of computers.

Out of the corner of his eye, Jason saw Roy reach up to his ear. He didn’t think anything of it until his voice whispered over the comm, “Guards about to round the corner. Room on the left is empty.”

Kori reached the door first, but hesitated and stepped to the side, looking expectantly at Jason as if she expected him to utilize some special Bat technique for opening doors quietly. He did, in fact, know such a technique, and put it to use easing the door open as gently as he could given the circumstances. Kori and Roy quickly followed him in, and he closed the door as slowly as he dared.

Apparently, he was still too fast. It was a little difficult to tell thanks to the door between them and the language, but Jason was almost positive he heard a voice say in Arabic, “Reporting in a strange noise from the west corridor.”

Jason’s stomach dropped. Since when did goons report shit rather than going to investigate it themselves so the heroes (or at least people trying to be) could sneakily subdue them? Wasn’t that a standard part of goon training? Shouldn’t there be some sort of International Goon Etiquette Review Board to make sure people did what they were supposed to?

Another voice, also speaking Arabic, snapped, “Seriously? You’re actually doing that?”

“Hey, it’s what the boss said to do!” said the first defensively. “And it could actually be something!”

“All it’s gonna be is a pain in the ass for whoever has to go oil the hinges on a door that moved because of a change in air pressure or whatever.”

“Oh, no, how am I gonna live with myself because I value my job over five minutes of one of my asshole coworkers’ time?”

“Shut up.”

The diligent guard followed the order and the two passed by the door in silence.

Once Jason was sure they were out of earshot, he let out a sigh of relief. Sounded like nobody would actually take the report seriously. Once again, human error was the best friend an infiltrator could have.

“What did they say?” Kori whispered.

Oh, right, she and Roy probably didn’t speak Arabic, or at least not well enough to make it all out when it was muffled and fast. “Nothing we need to worry about,” he said, scanning the room for anything useful before they left. All he saw were a couple of crates of ambiguous usefulness.

As he walked over to investigate, Roy asked, “Do you mean nothing we need to worry about, or nothing _we_ need to worry about?”

Jason knew what he meant. ‘We’, meaning all three of them, or ‘we’, just meaning Roy and Kori and Jason was going to worry about it and do something stupid and possibly get himself killed. “I mean, one of them _did_ report a weird noise, but from what the other guy said it won’t be taken very seriously,” he said, opening one of the crates. “I’m guessing your weapons shipment wasn’t contained in boxes of pasta?”

“Nope,” said Roy, opening another crate. “Wasn’t stored in bags of sunflower seeds, either. Guess they’re well-rounded smugglers.”

Kori joined them as they opened up all the crates just to be sure these guys didn’t have some bizarre organizational system that stored weapons and food in the same room. Sadly, they did not, and their search would have to continue.

They left the room, and Roy put the binoculars back up to keep an eye out. Their investigation became a strange sort of blur where Jason didn’t remember much, but what he did remember he recalled with vivid detail. Anything his brain deemed irrelevant to the case was tossed to the side to make room for every weird detail it decided was important. In this case, pretty much everything was deemed irrelevant. Every room they investigated held more random, harmless goods, or a couch and a sad assortment of books in case anyone got bored, or cleaning supplies, or other things that left zero impression on his weird detective brain. His brain also did not want to retain how many times they had to dodge guards, which was not quite as often as he’d expected. It seemed like these guys hadn’t really expected anyone to sneak through and get inside without alerting anyone, which was a relief, at least. They weren’t dealing with anyone _too_ competent.

Finally, they reached a room with a computer. Jason sat down and booted it up. He let out a sigh when he realized the keyboard was an Arabic one, and all the stuff he was going to have to read would probably be in Arabic, too. As good as he was with the language, there was always going to be that slight pause where his brain had to translate the meaning. Even the slightest pause in a situation like this could be disastrous.

He felt a bit better with Kori and Roy watching his back, so he devoted nearly his full attention to the computer. Those good feelings went away quickly when he saw that all of the files were titled with numbers and acronyms instead of proper, informative titles. Almost like they’d been named without infiltrators in mind. How inconsiderate of them. It still wouldn’t stop him.

He quickly realized that at least some of the number files were simply DD/MM/YY. On a hunch, Jason asked Roy what the date of his mission was. Roy didn’t remember, so Jason checked his phone, which had all of Babs’ intel downloaded on it. He checked for the date, and didn’t find any corresponding files. He checked the nearest files before and after the date, and found some records of received shipments. No big boxes of weapons had arrived at that time, or at least none that were recorded.

Jason reported his findings to Roy and Kori. “Perhaps you should check the dates surrounding Arsenal’s more recent mission,” Kori suggested.

Right. That made sense. That was the point all this shit started going down. Maybe these guys had something to do with whatever the inciting incident for it was. He checked the files, and… Bingo. Right there, just about every weapon he remembered from that shipping manifest, received right before Roy got sent off to die. They’d even been thorough enough to record which port it had been received from. Jason quickly made a note of it on his phone as he explained it to his friends.

Friends? Allies? Coworkers? Whatever, he’d think about it later.

“Did it say which boat it came from?” Kori asked. “Most ports would receive multiple per day, and we do not know if they were officially noted on the shipping manifest.”

Shit, she was right. “Nope. Guess we’ve got to look around some more.”

The search continued. They kept up the same routine – Roy keeping the binoculars practically glued to his face, searching every unoccupied room they came across, avoiding cameras, blah blah blah. Maybe that was the reason they messed up. It became _too_ routine, and they got cocky. They got so focused on opening crates that none of them noticed the approaching footsteps until the door slammed open.

They responded fast, but not fast enough. By the time Roy’s (rubber, blunt, non-lethal) arrow hit the guard between the eyes, he’d already shouted into his walkie-talkie the first two syllables of the Arabic word for ‘intruder’, which was more than enough for security to infer the rest of the word.

“Time to go,” said Kori firmly.

Firm was not enough to change Jason’s mind. “We’re already inside,” he pointed out. “We’ll have to fight out way out anyway. Why not get some more intel before we do?”

Roy seemed at least a little convinced, brow furrowed and fingers tapping against his bow in thought, but Kori was not. “We made a deal, Hood,” she said, reaching out to him. With her strength and durability, if she got a hold on him, he might not be able to escape.

So, he darted out of the room before her hand could reach him. He’d already put some thought into sneaking away from the group to investigate on his own, so he had several plans he could use to get them off his tail. Very few of them would work when both Kori and Roy were racing/flying after him. Not without hurting them, at least.

Luckily, the special ingredient for one of those plans was on its way. He could hear footsteps running towards them. If he timed it just right…

_Now!_

A group of guards came charging around the corner, and Jason took a moment to memorize the location of all exits and obstacles before throwing down a smoke bomb. Working off his memory, he hurried around another corner and was out of sight before the smoke cleared. The guards wouldn’t occupy them for long, so he needed to put as much distance and walls between them as possible. Hopefully they wouldn’t find him until either he’d found the intel he wanted or they realized he was right.

Was he right? Now that the heat of the moment wasn’t quite so scalding hot, he was starting to have doubts. He’d agreed with the retreat idea for a reason. Now he was isolated in enemy territory with a not-quite healed ankle and not-quite rust-free skills.

Why did he keep doing this? Why didn’t he ever learn? How had he still not realized that he didn’t know best, that he always messed up, that people got hurt because he was –

He ducked into another storage room to avoid incoming guards. It was too late to undo his actions, and too early to berate himself. At the moment, all he should be thinking about how he would get out of here with both some intel and his life.

The latter was still very much in question, but he did find the former soon enough in the form of a computer already logged in to somebody’s email. Hooray for either more human error or lackadaisical security protocols. And it wasn’t just the account of some random schmo, either. Judging by the emails, they were probably one of the number-crunchers, and thus got CC-ed in a whole lotta invoices and transactions and price negotiations and blah blah blah. One such CC involved discussions on how much money could be allocated to the weapons budget in order to purchase a very familiar-sounding shipment from an unnamed American agent. The answer was a _lot_ of money.

Holy shit. Was that _it?_ All this bullshit because some greedy dickhead decided to ‘misplace’ some weapons and knock off anyone who’d spill the beans about when and where they were actually misplaced? He could believe it, but after all this it felt a little anticlimactic. He’d been hoping for robots or clones or something fun. But no, it was just petty corruption, and he doubted the perpetrator was even dressed for the role, i.e. something eye-wateringly garish and stupid.

Still, disappointing or not, it was solid intel. Once it was downloaded on his phone, he reactivated his comm and said, “All right, I’m good to go. Where should we rendezvous?”

“Rendezvous?!” Roy roared so loudly Jason wished he knew how to turn the volume on the helmet speakers down. “No, no, this isn’t going to be a fucking rendezvous! This is you getting grounded and thrown into a holding cell until we drop you off back at Gotham so you don’t pull any more stupid shit like this!”

“Yeah, yeah, great, where do I go to get grounded?” Jason asked. Under different circumstances, he might have argued about not being a kid and even if he were, Roy would have no right to ground him. Under the current, very dangerous circumstances, he’d just go along with it and try not to get shot.

“Do you remember the way back to the entrance?” Kori asked. Her tone was calmer, but also made it clear that’s she’d just gone for the icy variant of rage.

“Yup,” said Jason, mentally adding a _vaguely._

“Meet us there.”

Saying anything else at this point felt like jabbing the sleeping bear with a hot poker, so Jason slipped out of the room and made his way back toward the entrance in silence. Well, silence other than gunshots and grunts of exertion and _maybe_ a few one-liners when he couldn’t avoid guards, but he was pretty sure Roy and Kori wouldn’t be able to hear those.

Eventually, he arrived at the door they’d come from, and found the two waiting for him like parents waiting for their rebellious teen to come home from the party they snuck out for. All that was missing was the lights turning on and them dramatically turning around in their chairs just when he thought he’d gotten back home unnoticed.

“Let’s save it for when we’re safe on the ship somewhere in the upper atmosphere, okay?” Jason said quickly before anyone could start yelling.

“I’ll give you until we’re out of firing range,” Roy growled, glaring daggers at him from behind his domino lenses.

Kori threw the door open with quite a bit more force than necessary, sending it flying off its hinges. She grabbed Jason with what felt like only slightly less force, grabbed Roy as well with an unknown amount of force (Jason would be willing to bet it was a lot less, though), and took off.

Above the sound of the wind howling past his helmet, Jason could hear gunfire, so he at least had a few seconds before the lecturing started. Maybe if he got shot, he could avoid it altogether.

Unfortunately, Kori’s evasive maneuvers and the gross incompetence of their assailants allowed them all to make it through unscathed.

Roy got started pretty much the second the sound of gunfire faded. Jason made a couple efforts at explaining or defending himself, but it quickly became apparent that this was not going to be one of those conversations. It wasn’t a conversation, period, because a conversation involved both parties talking. This was a monologue, delivered with enough fire and brimstone and spit to make a Shakespearian director proud. That in and of itself made it entertaining enough for Jason to actually listen for a while, but eventually he started to tune it out like he tuned out just about every lecture he was on the receiving end of. It was basically all the same points as the ones he’d heard before, albeit with an emphasis on the importance of teamwork and communication. Been there, done that, lesson never fucking learned because he was a stubborn idiot.

He only came back to reality when Kori gave him a shake. “Hood, could you repeat the last sentence Arsenal said?” she asked.

Jason mentally scrambled for the appropriate memory, and his metaphorical brain fingers found only empty air.

His silence was answer enough. “See?” said Kori. “He will not listen to us.”

Roy let out a sigh that, to Jason, sounded more like a chainsaw stuttering to life in order to dismember him. “Fine. Looks like we’re bringing out the big guns.”

“You mean Batman?” Jason scoffed. “I’ve got his lectures memorized. I can just give one to myself and save everyone the trouble. I’ll even make myself cry if it’ll make you happy.” He’d figured out how to cry on demand back when he was on the streets and needed every advantage at manipulation he could get. He wasn’t able to put the skill to much use nowadays, since a crying adult was way more awkward to deal with than a crying child, but if it would get them off his back, he’d blow the dust off it.

“No,” said Kori. “In this case, we shall appeal directly to the highest authority.”

“Highest-“ Oh. Oh, no. Not Alfred. Bruce would just get mad. Alfred was going to be _disappointed._ “Come on, guys, seriously? We’re fine. I got some intel. It all worked out.”

“Things working out does not negate the fact that it was a terrible fucking decision,” Roy growled.

Jason… Yeah, okay, it _was_ a terrible fucking decision. And, yeah, okay, Jason probably deserved some disappointment from Alfred over it. And, yeah, okay, the only justification he had for not having to deal with it was the fact that he didn’t want to deal with it. And, yeah, okay, Doctor Adrian had been talking about not considering his flaws integral parts of his being and working to learn from mistakes and all that shit.

But, here’s the thing; Jason didn’t want to deal with any of that, and his brain considered that an irrefutable reason for him to move on without repercussions, even though it also realized nobody else would be convinced by it. It didn’t help that the adrenaline was fading out and leaving him exhausted.

“Yeah, I know,” he muttered aloud. “Terrible fucking decisions are my specialty.”

“Evidently,” said Kori, cold and flat as a tundra.

“It’s one thing to throw your own life away,” said Roy, rage cooled to a simmer. “But when you’re part of a team, it’s not just your life you’re endangering.”

“You guys could handle it.” Why was Jason defending himself? He knew he messed up. And there wasn’t any terrible punishment to defend himself from, not really. Alfred would be disappointed, yes, and that was a very bad thing, but it would pass, and the worst punishment he’d face would be getting grounded and locked out of both the Batcave and the library. And yet his brain continued to be a total dumbass in spite of all the information he’d tried shoving in there over the years, remaining convinced that being found in the wrong would result in a hard slap to the face at best.

He really needed to figure out how to keep meeting with his therapist while on the run from the authorities. Shockingly enough, the stress of regular life-or-death situations didn’t seem to be doing wonders for his mental health.

He zoned out again as Roy resumed his rant. Maybe if he let him get his anger out now, he’d be calmer later on when they were discussing the next step to take. If he and Kori weren’t calmer, Jason suspected that the next step for him would be very different than the next one for them, unless they planned on staying cooped up in the manor for the rest of their lives as well.

He didn’t zone back into reality until Kori pretty much just dropped him on the ground in front of the gangplank to the ship. He barely avoided falling flat on his face and trudged up into the ship.

The instant the door closed behind them, Kori swept towards the cockpit and Roy pulled out his phone with one hand and snapped his fingers in front of Jason’s face with the other. “Hey, you paying attention again? Stay right here.”

Jason would very, very, very, very, very, very, very, _very_ much like to not do that and go hide in a vent or something until he could sneak away and avoid everyone he’d ever come into contact with, but that wasn’t very feasible, so he stayed put and slipped his helmet off to get some fresh air while Roy dialed a number.

“Hey, Dick, I would like to apologize for all the times I’ve complained about your behavior on missions, because I’ve had to redefine my scale of acceptable mission behavior thanks to Jason’s bullshit.”

Jason supposed it made sense that Roy didn’t have Alfred’s number in his contacts and needed Dick to patch them through, but his heart still felt as if it were slowly hardening into something cold and sharp and metal as Roy angrily relayed the details of the mission. He wasn’t even unbiased about it. He just said, accurately, that Jason ran off to investigate a fortress crawling with bad guys all by himself. There wasn’t really a way to spin that in Jason’s favor.

To Jason’s surprise, Roy never actually handed the phone over so Dick could yell at him. He just hung up and said, “He’s gonna tell Alfred to call you. Do I need to babysit you to make sure you pick up?”

“No,” Jason grumbled, pulling his phone out and stomping to the lounge in a way that was most certainly not reminiscent of a child throwing a tantrum.


	10. Guilt-Slings and Arrows

Jason wished Dick had stayed on the line to yell at him. He’d never been very good at the whole lecturing thing, and Jason didn’t care _too_ much about his opinion, so he could’ve sat there feeling nothing but amusement. Instead, all he could hear was the hum of the ship’s engine and all the thoughts swirling around his head in a downward spiral of worst-case scenarios unencumbered by logic or reason.

His imagination was trying very hard to convince him that Alfred was going to seal him inside a sensory deprivation unit inside a rocket and launch him into space to slowly die of dehydration or starvation when the phone finally rang. He nearly dropped it in in his eagerness to pick it up.

The eagerness drained away the second he accepted the call and raised the phone to his ear. It felt like his voice had to travel lightyears instead of inches as he said, “Hey, Alfie.”

“Hello, Master Jason. Before I offer any judgements, could you please explain precisely what happened?”

Guilt coiled around Jason’s gut like a python, squeezing the breath out of him. Fuck, why did Alfred have to be so nice? Why couldn’t he have just started yelling without letting Jason give his side of the story? At least then he could feel a little righteous indignation instead of pure guilt.

“Before we went in, we agreed to retreat if we got caught. We got caught and I didn’t want to retreat, so I threw down a smoke bomb and snuck around until I found more intel.”

“Why did you not want to retreat?”

Damn it, why couldn’t he just be angry? Jason was too tired to do the kind of self-reflection required to figure out the answer to that. “I dunno,” he said honestly. “Sunk cost fallacy? We were already going to fight dudes, why not a few more? I know it was stupid, and could have gotten someone killed, and you’re not supposed to do that sort of thing when you’re working with a team, and-“

“You should not do that sort of thing regardless of if you are working with a team,” said Alfred sternly. “You are resourceful enough to have found another source of information. All you accomplished that could not have been done otherwise was risking your life. Even if you do not value your life as much as you should, please value the feelings of those who care for you.”

Did Jason say guilt was constricting his insides earlier? He was mistaken. _Now_ it was going in for the kill. “I’m sorry,” he murmured with what little breath he had.

“I do not want an apology, Master Jason. I would very much like for you to swear never to do such a foolish thing again, and I believe you would mean it in the moment, but I do not think such a promise would last. Nor do I ask for you to come home. Until you feel that your task is finished, I doubt there is a security system Master Bruce can devise that you could not circumvent.”

It was amazing how Alfred could compliment him and still make him feel awful. “I’ll come home when we’re finished,” he promised. “I think by then I’ll have had enough excitement in my life for a while.”

“Could you please give a precise definition of when you will be finished?”

It was a good thing Alfred asked that, because Jason hadn’t really given it much thought, and it was way too easy for something new to come up and make you think, ‘Okay, I’ll be done after _this_.’ Then there’d be another thing, and another, and before you knew it, you’d missed Christmas. “When Roy is no longer getting hunted by the feds,” he said aloud.

“Very well. Once that is accomplished, I expect you home promptly. Until then, please try to restrain your reckless urges.”

“I’ll try,” said Jason.

“That is all I ask. Take care, Master Jason.”

The call ended. Jason lay back on the couch with an exhausted sigh. Between the adrenaline crash, the guilt, and the dread of having to talk to Roy and Kori again, he wanted nothing more than to go to sleep. But sleep rarely brought peace for him, so he just stared out the window at passing clouds.

He wasn’t sure if he actually fell asleep or not, but next thing he knew his eyes were closed and the sound of footsteps were approaching. He sat up so that he could see the door and nonchalantly rested a hand on the butt of a gun.

Somebody knocked on the door, and Kori called out, “Jason, are you finished with your call?”

Jason sighed. _Might as well get this over with._ “Yeah, come on in.”

They did so. To his surprise, they didn’t look angry. Well, only a little angry. Mostly they seemed rather contrite. “What was it you found out, exactly?” Roy asked.

Oh, right. He never actually told them what the fruits of his stupid, stupid labor were between all the yelling and zoning out. “The guys in the mountain bought the guns from an American agent right before Roy got sent to Qurac,” he said.

Contrition turned to focus and thoughtfulness. “Did it give any details on this American agent?” asked Kori.

Jason pulled the email up on his phone and looked it over again, just to be sure he remembered it right. “Only that they’d handle getting the weapons on the ship. Doesn’t say which ship it was, either. But I _do_ have some email addresses that should tell us. Or…” Fuck, Jason was too tired to explain the steps it would take to track down and hack into whatever address or server had the info they needed. “Or, at least, addresses that can lead to that info once I work my magic.”

“As useful as that information is,” Kori admitted. “I still maintain that it was not worth the risk.”

Jason sighed again. “Yeah, I know, it was stupid. But I am also pretty stupid, so I can’t promise I won’t pull shit like that again. And I’m emotionally invested in this now, so if you try to sideline me, I’ll keep helping you whether you like it or not.”

Roy sighed and rubbed at his forehead. “Jesus Christ, how is anyone in your family still alive?”

“Divine intervention,” Jason quipped. “Literally, in my case. And B’s, I guess.”

“Does the Phoenix Force count as divine?” Kori wondered aloud.

Jason opened and closed his mouth a few times as he tried to come up with an answer. “Shit, now you’ve got me curious about that, and I doubt Google has the answers to that shit. I need a distraction. Does Dick have a good hacking computer around so I can get started on the work?”

Kori nodded. “It is in the cockpit. Do you need me to – No. I _shall_ help you access it.”

Wow, she really was getting to know him. She’d figured out that it brought him physical discomfort to ask for help. Or maybe it was just another family thing that they were already used to with Dick. As much as it sucked to _still_ be in his shadow, at least it made some things easier.

It was a good thing she insisted on it, because on his own it would have taken Jason hours to figure out the right combination of buttons to push before one of the screens switched to a standard log-in screen and an English keyboard popped out of the wall.

“Thanks,” he said, taking a seat and logging in (no password needed, thankfully, at least for the guest account).

He knew he was in for trouble when she didn’t leave immediately. After a few moments of thoughtful silence, she said, “I hope you realize that our anger towards you is born from concern, not dislike.”

Jason opened a browser. “Oh, don’t worry, it’ll be out of dislike soon enough. I’m good at that.”

“We do not want you to die,” she said bluntly. “We have seen how-“

Jason turned to glare at her. “Yes, you’ve seen how mopey Dick and B get, I know, it’s so terrible for you all to deal with, Roy already told me last time I fucked up.”

“That is part of it,” she admitted. “But we also… We thought you were dead for a very long time. I, at least, had grown so used to thinking of you that way I still sometimes find it difficult to believe you are alive. When you are out of sight, I wonder if my memories are false and you are still…”

She squeezed her eyes shut and took a deep breath. Jason didn’t know how to respond, especially when she leaned down and hugged him.

“I am glad you are alive, Jason,” she murmured. “And I am afraid that you do not feel the same.”

 _That’s what I get for wanting them to notice something I don’t share with Dick,_ he thought to himself as the guilt-python made itself known again deep in his abdomen. _Or at least I really, really hope I don’t share that with Dick._

He wished he could unequivocally say it wasn’t true. He _was_ happy to be here… most of the time. The times he wasn’t, however… He wasn’t going to talk about that. He wasn’t going to even _think_ about that. Time for the ol’ Robin technique of dealing with dark thoughts and awkwardness.

“Do you get this worried about all your friends’ replacements, or am I just special?” he asked jokingly.

Kori pulled back and fixed him with a disapproving look worthy of Alfred. “Yes, you are special. At least in regard to your ability to evoke worry.”

Jason shrugged. “That’s another thing I’m good at.” It felt like as good a note to end on as he was going to get, so he turned his attention back to the monitor. “I’m also pretty good at hacking, so if you’d let me get to it…”

Kori nodded in understanding and left the room.

Jason didn’t keep track of the time as he scoured for emails and IP addresses and all that jazz. Thus, he was unaware of how long it took for Roy to stick his head in the cockpit.

“So, Kori says I should apologize and shit,” he said, not sounding apologetic at all.

“Don’t see why,” said Jason, eyes still fixed on the screen. “I was stupid. You told me I was stupid. Very thoroughly. What’s to apologize for?”

“Well, in your defence, I can also be pretty stupid, so I probably shouldn’t be judging you so harshly. But nobody else was around to judge you, so I felt like I had to fill in.”

Jason still couldn’t bring himself to look at him, even as his jaw and fingers clenched. “I get it. You don’t need to keep reminding me. Can you let me do my job already?”

Roy was silent for a single, glorious moment where Jason thought he might actually leave without another word. Then he ruined it and said, “What, exactly, do you think you’re getting?”

Jason’s mouth started moving before his brain could catch up. “That you all still think of me as a poor little dead kid that’ll get himself killed again the moment you lose sight of me?”

Roy was quiet for another, far less pleasant moment. “I’ll admit, the growth spurt’s gonna take a while to get used to. And, yeah, considering the shit you’ve pulled, I think I deserve to get a little worried when you’re left to your own devices. But… uh… Shit, I swear I had a point.”

Jason finally looked at him, if only to smirk with smug amusement at him. “Uh-huh. Go on, I’m listening. You keep on shoving that foot deeper down your digestive tract.”

“How about this? I’ll treat you like a kid until you show a stronger instinct for self-preservation than my actual kid.”

“That’s not fair. Lian seems like too high of a standard.”

“Last month, I caught her trying to ride the neighbor’s skateboard down the fire escape.”

Jason was the one to be quiet for a moment this time. “Okay, yeah, that’s pretty stupid.”

“Tell me about it,” Roy muttered with the kind of fond exhaustion only a parent could pull off. “So, until you’re more mature and responsible and safe than her, you get the kid gloves. Deal?”

Jason did _not_ pout. It was a very mature, threatening scowl. He was an adult. He didn’t pout. Even if the way his lips twisted felt exactly like a childish pout. “Fine. Whatever. Just leave me alone until I’ve got the name of whoever it is we need to kick the ass of, all right?”

“Yes, sir,” said Roy with a lazy salute. “Catch you later, Jaybird.”

He left the room before Jason could retaliate.

“I really need to come up with a stupid nickname for him,” he muttered to himself as he returned to his work.

* * *

So, apparently Jason wasn’t _quite_ as smart as he liked to think he was. Or, at least, his hacking skills were a bit rustier than he liked. Whatever the reason, the point was that he hit a digital roadblock that he couldn’t overcome without using techniques he deemed too risky for a case that was not one of imminent life or death, or a brute-force attack that could literally take years if the passwords were good enough.

Time to call in some help, no matter how much it went against the grain of his being.

He tried reaching out to Babs first. Her response was a quick and blunt, _Unless somebody’s literally dying as I type this, I’m busy._

The next best thing would be Bruce, but Jason was not opening that can of worms. Bruce would probably find some way to turn a simple request for hacking assistance into an excuse to have a guilty mental breakdown and be even more insufferable than usual to live around, and Jason wasn’t inflicting any more maladjustment on Damian.

The next next best thing would be Tim. Still not ideal, emotionally speaking, but Jason couldn’t think of anyone better that he could convince to help him. Plus, if he played his cards right, he might just be able to get the Replacement to eat a proper meal and slip some sedatives in it to make him get some sleep. Seriously, at this rate he was going to end up in future medical textbooks as the ultimate example of the damage sleep-deprivation and over-caffeination could do to the human body.

Even so, it took Jason a solid three minutes of staring at his phone before he worked up the nerve to text, _Hey, Replacement, mind doing me a favor?_

Tim didn’t respond right away. In fact, it took so long for him to respond that Jason felt like he’d vibrate into another plane of existence if he kept sitting there, so he went to do some training while he waited. He was still tired, and it felt like he’d pulled a muscle the wrong way back in the mountain complex, but it was distracting and familiar, and that was what he needed.

Thankfully, Tim finally replied before Jason’s body went on strike. He pulled his phone out with slightly shaky hands and read, _Depends on the favor._

_Need to figure out someone’s identity using an email address. I’ve almost got it, but need help with the last few steps. I’ll buy you dinner/lunch/breakfast/whatever in exchange._

Tim was a lot faster about replying this time. _Deal. When can you get to San Fran? I’ve got a lunch meeting I really want to cancel._

_Got it. Send the time and place. I snagged one of B’s credit cards, so don’t worry about price._

_How are you going to explain why you have Bruce Wayne’s credit card if they look too close?_

_Yeah, I know, I’ve got the same name, my parents thought they were being real fucking funny, can I have my chili dog now?_

_Bold of you to assume I’m taking you somewhere with chili dogs._

Jason decided to be nice and let him get the last word in. Considering the whole accidental telekinetic strangulation thing, a lost argument and lack of chili dogs was more than acceptable. Also, things between him and Tim still felt pretty precarious, so every bit of positive interaction mattered.

* * *

They got to San Francisco with time to spare. Jason downloaded all the updated data onto his phone, changed into some non-sweaty clothes that fit pretty well considering they were a collection of spares from various heroes that frequented Kori’s ship, and set out for the restaurant. Kori and Roy were going to visit the Tower and Lian, so it was a win-win all around. Nobody even teased him for needing help.

Thankfully, Tim hadn’t made reservations anywhere _too_ fancy. Definitely nicer than the places Jason usually went, but he could walk inside in jeans and a leather jacket and not have anyone faint at the sight of him, so it was acceptable. He found Tim quickly – he just followed the smell of coffee.

He was on a laptop, typing furiously, and didn’t even look up to acknowledge Jason’s presence as he took a seat. Probably recognized his footsteps or was looking at security cam footage of the restaurant or something. Even a sleep-deprived Bat was a paranoid Bat with every sense peeled for danger.

He only looked up when Jason reached over and took his cup of coffee. “That’s mine,” he growled, glaring daggers that would’ve been sharper if it weren’t for the obvious dark circles under his eyes.

“So was the costume,” said Jason, putting the cup down out of Tim’s reach. “Plus, you need some sort of consequences for skipping out on meetings.”

“It wasn’t an important meeting,” Tim grumbled. “If they come to any conclusions I don’t like, I can just veto them later.”

Jason didn’t know enough about business to say whether that was a terrible strategy or not, so he grabbed the menu from Tim’s side of the table and flipped through it instead of saying anything about it.

As he perused his options, Tim asked, “Could you give me the files now? No offense, but I’d rather get this over with and get back to th- my friends as soon as possible.”

Jason didn’t dare ask what he was going to say before he corrected himself, for the same reason that Tim didn’t say it in the first place. They weren’t the only ones in the restaurant, and even something as vague as ‘the Tower’ might be deemed suspicious. In hindsight mentioning the costume was probably suspicious, too. For once, Jason would actually have to watch his mouth.

“Sure,” he said, pulling out his phone and opening the appropriate files. “Should I email you, or do you have a USB cord on you?”

Tim wordlessly took the phone from him with one hand and pulled a cord out of his bag with the other. “Let’s be safe.”

Jason snorted. “That’ll be a first.”

Any further banter was postponed by the arrival of a waitress coming over to get Jason’s drink order. He hadn’t actually gotten the chance to look at the drink part of the menu, so he just went with plain water. He hadn’t had much of a look at the rest of the menu, either, so he wasn’t very happy when Tim announced they were ready to order without so much as a glance Jason’s direction to confirm if it was true or not. While Tim gave his order, Jason surreptitiously flipped through for the first appetizing thing he could find. It ended up being a steak, medium rare, thank you, and then finally she was gone.

Once she was out of earshot, Tim asked, “So, what was it you did exactly that got Dick so mad at you?”

Jason groaned. “Don’t you have a job to do?”

“I’m waiting for it to download. You’re the one who wanted to do this in person. I assumed you didn’t insist on it just so we could sit in awkward silence.”

Jason was quite regretting that decision right now, but regret wouldn’t change the fact that he was here now and leaving would feel like surrender. “Oh, you know, the usual,” he said. “Ignored everyone’s advice, ran off on my own like an idiot, nearly got shot. I’m sure you understand.”

Tim opened and closed his mouth a few times before apparently giving up on any attempt to defend himself. “Yup. And, really, Dick should understand that, too, yet he still acts all surprised when anyone else does it.”

Jason shrugged. “Guess it’s an older sibling thing.” He very nearly followed that up with mentioning how upset he got whenever Tim or Damian did the same sort of stupid shit he’d have done in their shoes, but the words got stuck in his throat and refused to come out. Making fun of his brothers was one thing. Actually telling them he cared about them was an entirely different and far more terrifying thing. They still had some bonding to do before they got there.

The conversation got a lot easier after that, since the files finally finished downloading and they could focus on being the digital equivalent of bloodhounds tracking down their quarry. The only words they exchanged that weren’t regarding the work were ‘thank you’ when the waitress brought them their food and various meaningless reassurances whenever she came around to check on them.

Finally, through the power of coffee (only a few sips, and only because Tim looked like he might legitimately pass out right there on the keyboard without a pick-me-up) and whatever super-illegal hacking programs Tim had on that laptop, they found their guy (in the gender-neutral sense of the term). An FBI higher-up named Ellen Lawrence who’d already faced several serious criminal charges that were mysteriously dropped, and was still active on Facebook. Honestly, Jason felt like the latter was more telling, especially considering how often she used words like ‘patriot’ and ‘disrespect’ in her posts. She actually made one purely to complain about a cashier saying ‘Happy Holidays’ instead of ‘Merry Christmas’. Definitely bad guy material.

“Think this is enough to convince a court?” Jason asked.

“Depends on the court,” said Tim. “You should probably get some more evidence and make sure she doesn’t stack the jury in her favor.”

Jason sighed. “Right. Because I, a legally dead vigilante with no friends, can totally influence the legal system.”

Tim was unimpressed. “You really expect me to believe you can’t figure it out?”

“Maybe, but it’d be a pain,” Jason grumbled. “And I’m pretty sure it would be beneficial to my mental health if I go home and stop risking my life as soon as possible.”

“Well, then, you should’ve considered that before you got involved in all this. We’ve all got other important missions to take care of, and-“ Tim cut himself off with a yawn, and he reached across the table towards his coffee cup.

“Oh, no, you don’t,” said Jason, picking it up and holding it away from him. “Since you’re not worried about my mental health, I’m going to be the better person and show concern for your physical health. Use all the time you won’t use to help me to get some sleep.”

“Will you give it to me if I agree to help you?”

“Nope. I need to prove I’m the better brother.”

Tim pouted and crossed his arms across his chest. “I liked it better when you were just trying to kill me.”

Oh, good, they were at the making light of near-death experiences stage. Or, rather, Tim was at that stage, and Jason most definitely was not. He stared down at the table, the taste of bile dripping on his tongue from the back of his throat, fingers of one hand releasing their hold on his glass before it shattered and the fingers of the other gripping the tablecloth until his knuckles went white.

Tim noticed. “Sorry. I… I appreciate the concern.”

 _Tim_ was saying sorry? Jason was the one that nearly killed him. That part might have been an accident, but the rest of it wasn’t. He’d _wanted_ to hurt him, no matter how much he’d tried to convince himself he was just trying to prevent another Ethiopia. He’d been… He was…

He needed to leave. “Thanks for the info,” he said, reaching over to unplug his phone, still unable to look Tim in the eye. “I know I said I could pay, but…” He wanted to make some dumb joke about Tim already being super rich even before he met Bruce, but the words wouldn’t come together right. Nothing ever came together right. Not for him.

“What’s up?” Tim asked, and even though Jason wasn’t looking at him the concern was plain as day.

 _I nearly killed you and you don’t seem to care, that’s what’s fucking up!_ Jason had to bite his lip painfully hard to stop the words from coming out. They were in the middle of a public restaurant, surrounded by civilians. He could have his meltdown later once he was back at the ship. Roy and Kori were pretty used to that kinda thing from him, they wouldn’t mind too much.

“Gotta get some fresh air,” Jason muttered, getting to his feet. “Talk to you later.”

With that, he got out of the restaurant as fast as he could without outright running.


	11. Shock Through the Heart

Unsurprisingly, Jason was the first one back on the ship. In theory, it meant he could do whatever he wanted to release all the negative emotions swirling around in a whirlpool somewhere in his stomach, barring actual damage to the ship. In practice, all he wanted to do was lie down and go to sleep, forever if possible.

That plan was foiled by his phone buzzing and waking him up. As much as he’d like to ignore it and go back to sleep, there was too high a chance of it being a matter of life or death, and if he felt like shit now, he’d feel like an Everest-sized piece of shit if he ignored a message like that.

It was a text from Tim. _Sorry about lunch. I shouldn’t have said something like that._

Oh, great. Emotional shit. Jason would’ve preferred life or death matters. He lazily dropped the phone on the floor (the case was tough, it could take it) and buried his face back in the pillow, trying to go back to sleep.

The phone buzzed again, and once again there was a chance not checking it could doom someone, so he picked it back up. It was Tim again. _For what it’s worth, I forgive you. It was an accident, and unless you spontaneously develop telekinesis, it won’t happen again._

Jason dropped the phone again before he did something more violent with it. How the fuck was it that Tim, the one that actually got strangled, seemed more over it than Jason was? Tim had forgiven him, why couldn’t Jason forgive himself?

Fuck it. He was too tired to think about that. He pulled the sheets over his head, thoughts still swirling with enough force that he doubted he’d be able to go back to sleep.

Next thing he knew, he’d been woken up by a loud noise and had instinctively grabbed a knife from under his pillow before he was even aware of it. Once his eyes caught up with his instincts, he realized it was just Roy, who didn’t look particularly surprised by his reaction.

“Easy there, Jaybird, it’s just me,” he said, hands up in surrender.

Jason put the knife back in its hiding place and swung his legs over the side of the bed, freeing himself from his blanket’s imprisonment. “You say that like I wouldn’t stab you,” he muttered as he rubbed the sleep out of his eyes.

“Yes, yes, you are very big and strong and scary,” said Roy mockingly. “So, did you and Tim figure it out?”

“Yup,” said Jason. “You ever met Ellen Lawrence before?”

While Roy scoured his memory, Jason got to his feet and put his jacket back on. It wasn’t really cold enough to warrant it on the ship, but he wasn’t about to ruin his aesthetic over a little heat.

Eventually, Roy said, “Nope. Not ringing any bells.”

“Probably for the best. She seems completely insufferable, even for somebody who’ll sell military supplies to the highest bidder.” He picked up his phone and opened one of the screenshots of her Facebook. “Do you think it’d break secret identity rules to make a post about her on one of those Karen subreddits?”

“Yes, it would,” said Roy firmly. “And I feel like trying to get me tortured and killed goes a bit beyond Karendom, don’t you?”

“Trust me, if some of the parents on the PTA at Gotham Academy had access to the right resources, they would’ve absolutely tried to do that to whoever got in their way.”

“Let’s leave the discussion of PTA parents for your therapist. Do you have any proof that’ll stand up in court?”

Jason shrugged. “Depends on the court, I guess. Plus, I did kinda break a lotta laws to get her identity, so that might be a problem.”

Roy sighed, taking a seat on a nearby bunk. “Considering how many vigilantes are running around nowadays, you’d think they’d change those laws. On the federal level, I mean. I assume Gotham’s made a few loopholes for Bats, right?”

“I don’t think the GCPD ever bothered with those laws in the first place.” Jason scrolled through the data as he thought it over. “Don’t suppose you have any old fed friends that don’t want you dead?”

“None that have bothered trying to help me out. Then again, they haven’t tried luring me into any traps, either, so that’s something, I guess. Might be worth trying to point them in Lawrence’s direction.”

Jason looked back up with a raised eyebrow. “You sure they won’t point Lawrence in your direction instead?”

“No, but you seem to think you can single-handedly handle anything the universe throws at us, so why are you complaining?”

“Yeah, yeah, I know, I’m a reckless dumbass, but you’re trying to paint yourself as the responsible one, so why don’t you act like it?”

“Only in comparison to you, Jaybird, and that’s really not saying much. I’ll make some calls. Mind sending me some info so I don’t sound like an idiot?”

“No amount of intel’s gonna change that, buddy,” said Jason as he sent the info.

Roy’s phone dinged and he walked out of the room, flipping Jason off as he went.

Jason had never had much experience with friendship, but the warm feeling in his chest and smirk on his face made him feel like this might just be the start of a good one.

* * *

Jason tried and failed to go back to sleep, and there were few things he hated more than giving his mind the opportunity to drift freely, so he wandered over to the cockpit and, as expected, found Kori fiddling around with one of the screens.

“So, how was the visit?” he asked. That was what people did, right? Ask about recent activities? Seemed like something you were supposed to do.

“It was quite nice,” said Kori. “Lian was very happy to see her father. However, I did see Tim returning from your meeting. His expression did not suggest your visit was as nice.”

Damn it. This is what Jason got for trying to follow social norms designed for people that weren’t just a big stack of PTSD in a trench coat. “No, it wasn’t. Never really is with our family. Or maybe just with me.”

Kori finally tore her eyes away from whatever alien language she was reading to look at him. “May we discuss this later? I am rather preoccupied at the moment.”

“Anything we need to worry about?” Jason asked.

Kori pondered it for a moment before she responded. “There is no need for you to worry over something you can do little about.”

“Well, now I’m _definitely_ going to worry about it. In fact, I’m probably gonna convince myself the world’s about to end if you don’t tell me it’s not.”

Kori hesitated again.

“Jesus Christ, Kori, that was a joke. Please tell me the world’s not actually going to end.”

“It probably won’t,” said Kori cautiously. “Do you recall the Shi’ar?”

Jason had to rack his brain for a couple seconds before he remembered. “That evil alien empire that ruined our vacation? What about them?”

“Some of their scout ships have been reported in this sector. Most likely, nothing shall come of it.”

“And if something _does_ come out of it, there’s shit all someone like me can do about it.”

“In essence, yes,” said Kori bluntly. “As I said, it is most likely nothing. Worrying about it would only cause unneeded stress.”

“All right,” said Jason. He had more than enough stress in his life already. Best to leave space matters to people that could handle it without becoming… without…

He took a deep breath and rubbed at his forehead. _Come on, brain, could we please go five minutes without an episode?_

“Just thought I’d let you know I found our culprit,” he said aloud. “Roy’s trying to meet with someone who can take her down legally. Be ready to throw some starbolts if it’s a trap.”

“Duly noted,” said Kori, once again absorbed in her screen.

Jason left the cockpit and tried to think of something else he could do to occupy himself and not give himself room to think too much. Roy was probably still trying to find a fed with a modicum of honor, so he was gonna be busy for quite a while. He could, in theory, just read a book or play on the PlayStation or his phone or something. But now that he’d gotten some rest, he was feeling antsy again, and the only thing that could scratch that unhealthy itch was some good ol’ violence.

He grabbed his helmet, strapped on every bit of armor and weaponry he could, sent a text to Tim to not freak out about a new vigilante showing up in his city, popped his head into the cockpit to let Kori know he was heading out, and finally stepped out into the sun. There was nothing quite like the feel of his breath bouncing back into his face and the weight of a gun on his hip to make him feel alive.

Tim texted him back before he even reached the city. _What does your costume look like? If an unauthorized vigilante shows up at the same time, I don’t want to get confused._

Jason would have said that was ridiculously paranoid, but, well, he probably would have done the same in his shoes, so he had no right to say anything like that. He just texted back, _Plain body armor, brown leather jacket, blank red helmet._

Jason didn’t walk much farther before Tim responded. _What code name are you using?_

 _Red Hood,_ Jason replied.

Once again, Tim didn’t take his time. _How soon can you meet with your therapist?_

Okay, yeah, that was a deserved reaction. Stealing the old alias of your murderer wasn’t exactly healthy. Neither was stealing the alias of your dead role model, though, so Tim really wasn’t one to judge. _Not soon enough,_ he typed.

Tim, due to whatever bizarre logic went on in that big brain of his, seemed to consider this an acceptable end to the conversation and didn’t bother him again for the rest of his journey to the city.

It had been a while since Jason patrolled in San Francisco, and he hadn’t been there for very long in the first place. Just long enough for his idiotic infiltration of Titans Tower. This time, he could safely focus on patrol. Not much had changed, from what he could tell – still nowhere near as bad as Gotham, but not as good as one would hope to find in a city with the Titans literally right there. The team was still keeping their sights so high they never bothered much with the rabble below, he saw. Really, Tim owed him for this. He was doing everybody a service _and_ engaging in unhealthy coping mechanisms at the same time. It was a win-win situation all around.

Everything went smooth, at first anyway. Bad guys got knocked out, zip-tied to the nearest sturdy structure, or with too many broken parts to do anything other than lay on the ground in a groaning heap. The inno – No, he wasn’t going to claim any of these people were innocent. Innocent or not, though, they still deserved to have someone watching out for them. Although he had to admit the number of them that just ran away screaming instead of being grateful for some masked stranger swinging out of nowhere and beating the shit out of someone was just a tad disheartening. At least in Gotham people knew how to say thank you for things like that. Then again, most of them didn’t know how to say thank you in literally any other situation, so he supposed it all evened out.

He knew things wouldn’t stay smooth. He thought he was prepared, senses pricked for any irregularity. He even forwent several opportunities to be flashy and dramatic and cool in a fight in favor of just getting it over with quickly and safely. That had to be enough of a sacrifice for the universe to have mercy on him for once, right? Right?

Nope. In his defense, though, he didn’t think there was much he could’ve done to stop the… whatever it was from slamming into his back and throwing him to the ground. There was no noise, no sign of movement, no warning whatsoever. Just an impact, and then the sensation of far too much electricity coursing through his body. His muscles spasmed, too overloaded to take heed of the electrical signals his brain was trying to send to them. That, however, was nowhere near as worrying as the spasms inside his chest. It felt like his heart was getting whiplash from pounding and stopping and starting again so much.

He barely registered footsteps approaching him. The feeling of someone pulling his hands behind his back and fastening something cold and metal around them was only slightly more noticeable. Hands grabbed hold of him and yanked him up to his feet. He tried opening his eyes to see his surroundings, but that was up to electrical signals, too, so it was all kinds of fucked up.

Somebody was talking. Maybe several people. He couldn’t tell. He couldn’t tell what they were saying, either, or if they were speaking a language he still wouldn’t have understood without imminent death by electrocution.

Finally, with one last stutter of his entire being, everything went to blissful black.

* * *

Jason wasn’t answering his phone.

On the one hand, Roy shouldn’t be too worried about that. It was Jason. The most likely scenario was that he was currently too busy kicking some mugger’s ass to answer his cell. Another likely scenario was that he simply didn’t want to answer. There was, like, a 90% chance that he was absolutely fine.

On the other hand, it was Jason. He might not be answering because he did something stupid and/or reckless and was currently bleeding out in an alley somewhere.

Roy was already stressed enough about, y’know, being on an FBI higher-up’s kill list, and not knowing if any of his contacts would be willing to help him instead of try to hand him over on a silver platter, or when Lian would be able to go back to school and be a normal kid. He did not need a thirteen-year-old with no self-preservation instincts in a six-foot nineteen-year-old’s body going MIA on him to worry about, too.

He stuck his head in the cockpit and found Kori typing frantically on a keyboard. Bummer. He’d been hoping he could just foist the responsibility for Jason on her guilt-free. “What’s up?” he asked.

It seemed she’d been too absorbed in her work to notice him, and responded to the intrusion by whirling around with starbolts at the ready. Luckily, she realized it was just him before she actually shot any at him. “Oh, Roy. Apologies. I was… You need not concern yourself with it.”

Roy rolled his eyes. You’d think that she’d have a better understanding of human nature after being surrounded by it for so long. “Well, now I’ve gotta know. What is it?”

Kori sighed. “Fine. A Shi’ar ship was spotted leaving Earth. They must have slipped past our notice. There have been no reports of attacks, and they appear to be returning to their own territory, but their presence is still worrying.”

Speaking of worrying… “Hey, uh, on a hopefully unrelated note, have you heard from Jason since he left?”

If Kori’s physiology allowed for it, she would have gone pale, judging by her expression. “No. I have not. He… He is most likely fine. Why would the Shi’ar be interested in him?”

“I dunno,” said Roy. “But it does seem like they’ve been following us. Maybe… Maybe it has something to do with the Phoenix Force?”

Kori shook her head and turned back to the screen. “Perhaps, but it is still most likely only a coincidence. Do we have any means of determining Jason’s location?”

“I don’t, but I’m sure the Bats do.”

Kori nodded in agreement. “Indeed. Could you please contact them while I assist with determining which faults in our planetary surveillance were utilized?”

“Sure.” Roy ducked back out of the room, pulled out his phone, and dialled Dick’s number.

He picked up pretty quick. “What did Jason do now?” he groaned.

“Go on patrol and ignore my calls,” said Roy. He was not bringing up the whole possible alien abduction thing if he didn’t have to. If he was feeling stressed out over it, Dick would have a goddamn heart attack. “You got any trackers on him or something?”

“B probably does, but if I acknowledge that I’ll have to acknowledge that he’s probably got me microchipped, too, so I’ll just ping his phone.”

“’Kay, thanks.”

There was a faint, staticky _thunk_ as the phone was put down, and the faint clacking of a keyboard could be heard in the background. Roy paced through the halls as he waited for the results.

His hopes sunk the second he heard Dick’s tone when he finally spoke again. “Roy, what did he get himself into?”

Shit. So much for not giving Dick a heart attack. “I don’t know. That’s why I asked you. What did you find?”

“Nothing. No response whatsoever. Which means every last part of that phone that could send out a signal was rendered inoperable. Just smashing it in a fight wouldn’t do that.”

“Maybe he just decided he didn’t want to be tracked down and did it himself?” Roy offered. Even to his own ears, the hope in his voice was thin and faltering.

“Maybe,” Dick said doubtfully. “What aren’t you telling me?”

Goddamn fucking Bats and their bullshit detective skills. Still, Roy could try. “What makes you think I’m not telling you everything?”

“You wouldn’t be freaking out so much over him not picking up his phone if there wasn’t a good reason for you to.”

Roy couldn’t argue with that. “Okay, but as a preface, let me say that it’s probably completely unrelated and this is all just a huge coincidence.”

Dick didn’t respond. Roy couldn’t even hear him breathing. He had to pull the phone from his ear and check to make sure the call was still going.

“An evil alien empire ship was spotted leaving Earth, and the same evil alien empire was snooping around the vacation planet we were staying on, so, in theory, it is vaguely possible that they took Jason or…” _Or killed him._ Nope, Roy was not saying that out loud. Not even where Dick wouldn’t hear it. In fact, he was going to try not to even think about it. “Or it could be a coincidence and they were just dropping by to get some genuine Earth pizza or something.”

Dick _still_ wasn’t talking, which was in and of itself a cause for alarm. Finally, in a flat sort of tone he must’ve picked up from Batman, he said, “I’ll talk to B about that tracker. Let me know if anything else happens.” Without another word, he hung up.

Roy put the phone back in his pocket and resumed his pacing at an even more frantic speed than before. He knew that it _was_ extremely likely that it was all a coincidence and Jason was going to come waltzing back onto the ship unscathed. However, he hadn’t survived for so long in this business by assuming the best and not preparing for the worst. As awful as it was to think about, it would be best for them all to act as if Jason had been captured by the Shi’ar.

Step one of Mission Assume the Worst: Tell Kori.

He went back to the cockpit. As soon as the door opened, Kori sighed and turned around in her chair. “I assume you do not bring good news,” she said wearily.

“Dick says Jay’s phone got completely destroyed,” he said, seeing no reason to beat around the bush. “Or at least rendered completely non-functional. He’s calling in Batman to try and track him down.”

Kori turned back to the screen with a thoughtful frown and typed something, bringing up an entirely different image.

“What are you looking for?” Roy asked.

“Confirmation,” she replied. “Ah, yes, I remembered right. The Shi’ar often use a specialized electric bolt that is less conductive in organic matter, allowing them to safely incapacitate their target and destroy their weapons and tools at once.”

Roy was forcibly reminded of all the numerous taser-related injuries he’d witnessed over the years. “I dunno, ‘electric bolt’ and ‘safely incapacitate’ don’t seem like they mix well.”

“It would not have killed him,” she amended. “So long as it was properly calibrated. If not…” She shook her head, the flames flaring angrily in her hair showing far more of her emotional state than her impassive face. “If they did not want him alive, I do not see why they would bother with the electric bolt. There are far simpler methods.”

Roy took a deep breath. It wasn’t a guarantee, but it was something. “All right. Any of our space friends keeping an eye on that ship?”

Kori typed a bit and pulled up a new image, this one some sort of space map. “Yes. It is still on course for Shi’ar territory.”

“Can we follow them?”

Kori looked back at him again, eyes wide with surprise. “Follow them? This is the Shi’ar we are talking about. Even their light scout ships would be more than a match for us. Our hull would be ruptured and you would die in the vacuum of space before we even got close to Jason.”

“I’m not saying we board the ship,” Roy clarified. “I’m just saying to follow them from a distance so we know where they are, and, if worst comes to worst, we’ll be close enough to at least _try_ to do something.”

“What if we are wrong, and Jason is actually perfectly fine on Earth?” Kori asked.

Roy shrugged. “He knows how pay-phones work. He’ll be fine.”

Kori nodded and turned back to the control panel. “Very well.” She hit some buttons, then froze with a confused frown. “Wait. Were you not going to meet with your old contacts?”

Oh. Right. He’d been so focused on the alien abduction thing he’d forgotten about the whole being a wanted criminal thing. “Considering the circumstances, I think one of our friends might be willing to take the case on,” he said. _Hopefully,_ he did not say. Even if they weren’t, though, he wasn’t going to change his course. He could evade his pursuers pretty much indefinitely so long as Kori let him stay on her ship and Lawrence didn’t make any friends with spaceships. Jason’s possible predicament was far more difficult to escape from. Worst case scenario, Roy would just have to set up meetings once they all got back.

 ** _If_** _we all get back,_ whispered the cynical, paranoid part of his brain that was probably only so noisy because of him spending so much time around Bats lately.

He walked out of the cockpit and headed towards the bunks, and more specifically his locker with all his arrows and other gadgets in it. He had no idea what he was going to face, but he was going to feel a hell of a lot better facing it with every last trick he could shove up his sleeve.


	12. No Jury or Judge

Jason woke up in pain, unable to remember how it had happened. He wished he could say this was an unfamiliar occurrence.

At least being used to it meant he could keep his cool and take stock of himself and his surroundings before he did anything stupid. He was lying on something not quite hard enough to be the ground, but just barely. His helmet, clothes, and all his weapons were still on him, a good deal of the latter digging into him and exacerbating his discomfort. The source of the rest of his discomfort was far more difficult to figure out. _Everything_ hurt, even the inside of his chest, and he couldn’t feel himself bleeding, so the only way he could give a proper self-diagnosis would be for him to move and reveal he was awake.

He waited a few moments, listening as intently as he possibly could for evidence of anyone else being present. All he got was a faint hum, like the engine in Kori’s spaceship. Plus, his helmet was still on, so he should be able to at least open his eyes without anyone seeing. He dared not take a deep breath to steel himself, because he was trying to maintain his sleeping breathing patterns, so he opened his eyes without feeling ready for it.

There wasn’t much to see, besides darkness. He could faintly make out some walls, too close to be encircling any room meant for comfort. It didn’t look like anywhere on Kori’s ship, or at the manor, so it’d be best to work under the assumption he was in unfriendly hands. But then why leave him with all his weapons?

Fuck it. If he stayed still any longer, the hilt of that dagger was going to leave a permanent impression in his leg.

He sat up, gritting his teeth against the pain and gripping onto the edge of the cot tightly to make sure he didn’t fall over. _Fuck,_ it felt like there was something heavy and sharp inside his ribcage, and his heart was cutting itself to pieces on it with every beat.

What the hell happened to him? Last thing he remembered was patrolling in San Francisco. He must’ve hit his head or something, or been hit in the head. No, wait, that couldn’t be it, a simple check showed that his helmet was still perfectly intact. It was a cheap helmet, sure, but anything strong enough to do damage to his head through it should have left a mark.

He patted himself down until he found his phone. He tried not to get his hopes up, because having his phone on him while imprisoned was far too good to be true, but he still felt his heart sink when it remained completely unresponsive no matter how long he held the power button down. Was it out of battery? It had been nearly full last time he checked. He didn’t feel stiff enough to have been out long enough for that. Then again, maybe his nerve endings were simply too overloaded with pain to take notice.

He laid back down, waiting for his head to stop spinning. Or the pain to lessen. Or for someone to walk into the room and explain what was going on.

He waited.

And waited.

And waited.

Finally, there _was_ a noise besides his own labored breathing and heartbeat. Footsteps, echoing in a way that suggested someone was walking through a metal hallway. Jason pulled out one of his guns and checked to see if he had ammo. He failed, because the magazine seemed to have fused with its surroundings and refused to come out no matter how hard he tried. The bullets probably hadn’t fared any better, so he abandoned the thought and focused on pretending to still be asleep, open eyes hidden behind his helmet.

The footsteps stopped right outside his door. There were some mechanical whirring and ticking noises, and suddenly the room was filled with light. Jason squeezed his eyes shut and utilized every last scrap of discipline he had to stop the rest of his body from reacting to the feeling of daggers stabbing through his eyes directly into his brain.

More whirring, and something clanked against the floor. One more whirr and a smaller clank, and his eyelids went from red to black as the lights turned back off and the footsteps went back the way they came.

Jason opened his eyes again, blinking until the spots faded and he could actually see again. Even then, it wasn’t quite enough, because he could only make out the very faint outline of _something_ on the floor right by the door. He knew it was there, and it hadn’t been there before, but that was it. He’d have to either get up and check it out himself, or wait for his eyesight to adjust more to the darkness.

Fuck it. If they’d just checked up on him, they probably wouldn’t come back for a while, and if there was a camera watching him, they would’ve already seen him checking himself over for injuries. He sat himself back up, waited until his head stopped spinning, got to his feet (or perhaps it would be more accurate to say 25% to his feet, 75% leaning against the bed), waited until things stopped spinning again, and walked toward the door, leaning heavily against the wall and taking breaks for more spinning.

The mysterious item turned out to be a metal tray with a weird paper plate of something he could only describe as ‘vaguely food-like’. His stomach, which had digested far worse, growled at the smell. He ignored it. Sure, if whoever was responsible for his current situation wanted him dead, they would’ve just shot him in the head instead of leaving him alive only to poison him later, but deadly poison wasn’t the only thing that could be lurking in there. Plus, if they noticed he wasn’t eating, they might try and do something about it, and Jason might be able to get some answers.

He continued making his way around the room, taking in everything he could. There was a strange contraption built into the wall that took him an embarrassingly long time to figure out was some weird sink/toilet hybrid that was unlike anything he’d seen on Earth. Was this a spaceship? Had he been abducted by aliens? That would explain the faint engine sounds. And the weird food. And… just about everything, really.

“Why not?” he muttered to himself, collapsing back down on the cot. “Why _wouldn’t_ I get abducted by aliens? Just about everything else has happened to me. Might as well fill out the whole bingo card.”

He took his helmet off and let his head fall back on the pillow. The best that could be said about it was that it was softer than the ground, and that was all Jason needed. Well, all he needed other than a way to get the fuck out of here. Maybe if he went back to sleep, his head would be clearer and he’d be able to figure out his escape. Or maybe someone would consider him not answering anyone’s calls unusual and come looking for him.

Escape on his own it was, then.

* * *

They were just leaving the solar system when Batman called.

Kori sighed, steeled herself, and accepted the call. “Hello, Batman. Have you had any luck?”

“No,” he growled. Kori could not claim to know him very well, but she thought she detected an entire galaxy’s worth of emotions in his voice, though she could not identify them. “No signal. Just like his phone. Why did you let him patrol?”

Ah. So Kori and Roy were not the only ones whose worry very easily transformed into anger, at least regarding Jason. “I did not believe there were any forces in the city that he could not handle,” she explained. “I was wrong. I am sorry.”

Batman did not acknowledge the apology, instead asking, “Do you have any idea what happened?”

Kori hesitated for a moment before she remembered that Batman _always_ found out, eventually. “I suspect that he may have been abducted by agents of the Shi’ar Empire. They have been known to use electric bolts that deactivate any devices the victim may have on them while leaving them relatively unharmed.”

“Evidence?” Batman grunted.

“A Shi’ar ship was spotted leaving Earth around the time we lost contact with him. Their ships were also spotted near the planet we stayed at while Red Hood’s ankle healed.”

“Red Hood?” Batman repeated, and she was finally able to recognize an emotion in his voice: confusion.

“He chose it as his new codename. I imagine he felt uncomfortable using Phoenix.”

“Hmm.” Batman was silent for a moment before he once again disregarded the last statement in order to focus on the investigation. “Why do you think the Shi’ar would want to capture him?”

“I do not know.” She racked her brain, trying to find some sort of reason to explain their situation. She found one. “Perhaps… it has something to do with his actions as Phoenix?”

He (or should she say they?) certainly drew a great deal of attention during what the intergalactic community seemed to have settled on calling the Dark Phoenix Incident. Perhaps the Shi’ar feared he might regain his connection with the Phoenix Force and attempting to finish what he began? But then how did they know it had been Jason? His personal details had never been shared, as far as she knew.

“Perhaps,” Batman agreed. “Where is the Shi’ar ship now?”

“Leaving the solar system on a trajectory towards Shi’ar space. We are following them, so that we may be in position to intercede if needed.”

Batman let out a vaguely approving grunt. “Stay in position. Do not engage unless necessary.”

Kori had already planned on that, and it was a little irksome for someone to act as if she could not figure it out for herself, but now was not the time to vocalize that. “Understood. Now, I must focus on piloting. Let me know of any further updates.”

Batman ended the call without another word, which was the closest he could get to disappearing when her back was turned. It was honestly comforting to see he was still acting at least somewhat normally.

* * *

Jason _did_ feel a little better after a nap. He still felt like he might have a heart attack any second and was in serious danger of falling over whenever he tried standing on his own two feet, but it was better than before, and that had been the goal.

Step one of his escape attempt was to get to know every inch of his cell so intimately it would be rated NC-17. A little hard to do in the dark, but not impossible. His other senses were working just fine. He could run his hands over the walls and floor to feel for any abnormalities, as well as knocking against them and listen for areas that sounded different. He took off his gloves to get a better feel for it, and the smooth metal of both the walls and floor were further evidence that he had legitimately been abducted by aliens. Great. As if escaping in the first place wasn’t challenging enough, now he had to worry about escaping right into the vacuum of space without any telekinesis to save him.

He nearly got his hopes up when he found that some walls made different sounds than others, but luckily it was only nearly, because he quickly realized that it was probably just because the wall with the door was facing the hallway, the walls to the side were facing other cells, and the very thick wall remaining might just be the only thing separating him from painful explosive decompression.

Fuck, he was getting tired. Did it really take that much energy to feel up a cell? Or was it…

There was a scent in the air he didn’t recognize that had not been there before he started feeling sleepy. Shit, knock-out gas? Sure, he probably would’ve done the same in their shoes, it was the easiest way to incapacitate him without risking anyone, but come on. He just hoped it didn’t leave him with any side-effects like whatever they’d done to get him here in the first place (he vaguely remembered getting electrocuted, but not clearly enough to know if it was a dream or not).

Not really expecting it to work, but still wanting to try _something_ , he fumbled his helmet back onto his head and tried to activate the air filters. They worked about as well as the bullets in his gun.

The world became blurrier and blurrier, his senses more and more disconnected, until finally he could’ve sworn he heard his helmet clank against the floor before he felt his body hit it.

Next thing he knew, he was lying down on something hard, his helmet was off again, he could feel something cold inside his ear, and all his limbs were tightly restrained. He kept his eyes closed and breathing even, alert for any trace of a clue as to where he was and whether or not he was in danger.

“He doesn’t seem to be waking up,” said an unfamiliar voice in a suspicious sort of tone.

“The readings are calibrated correctly,” said another. “Perhaps he is simply pretending to be asleep.”

There came a strange, almost bird-like sound, and suddenly Jason felt like he’d gotten an electric shock in every last one of his pain receptors. He was taken by surprise and couldn’t stop a scream from escaping his lips and his eyes from flying open.

Over his heaving breaths and the thundering of his heart, he could faintly hear someone say, “Well, he’s certainly awake now.”

He had to blink a few times before the world came into focus. Two humanoid faces were staring down at him. Even besides their weird outfits, there was something _wrong_ about them that he couldn’t quite put his finger on.

“Hello, Phoenix,” said the one on the left, who seemed to be a good deal shorter and slimmer than the behemoth on the right. “Before we return you to sleep, allow me to explain some things. First of all, there is no point in trying to escape. Do you remember the translator you used back on Nicrahines?”

Jason shoved down his dread at them knowing his old codename, and how that might relate to him being captured by aliens, in order to remember every detail about that translator. The first one that sprang to mind was the whole brain-frying thing, which… _fuck._

The shorter one gestured to his ear. “The translator we have given you shall also render you catatonic if you are lucky, and dead if you are not, should you leave the designated area – in this case, the complex we are currently inside. The signal shall also be triggered by any attempt to remove it.”

Was that the thing in his ear? Something to help detect attempted removal? He’d have to think it over. He would really, really like to think that aspect over rather than any of the rest of it. He could also safely realize that part of the reason these people seemed so _off_ was that their lip movements didn’t match up with the words he was hearing. At least the translator worked. Even with that in mind, though, there was still something unnerving, so he tried to focus more on finding it than what they were actually saying.

 _Tried_ being the operative word, because as much as he wasn’t a fan of what they were saying, he’d be a complete idiot if he just ignored what might be the only clues he’d get on how to get out of here.

“Second of all, you are going to die here,” the short one continued. They said it dispassionately, almost casually. Like informing people of their impending death was just part of their daily routine, like brushing their teeth. “The timing has yet to be decided on, but rest assured it shall be soon. Do try to keep your composure during the execution. I am told it’s already a pain to clean up, and I imagine you would like to maintain some semblance of dignity.”

What the fuck. What the fuck. What the actual, literal, entire _fuck_ was going through this alien’s head telling him not to inconvenience anyone with his fucking _execution?!_ Why was he getting executed in the first place? Wasn’t it one of his rights to know why he was getting arrested or whatever? Did aliens have the same legal system?

He swallowed, trying to get at least a little moisture into his throat, and croaked, “I want a lawyer.”

Both the faces staring down at him seemed surprised. The slight shift in head position, and the different lighting caused by it, gave him the final piece of what was so weird about them. They didn’t have hair, they had feathers. Just on the head, though. Pretty weird, evolutionarily speaking, but it probably wasn’t the weirdest alien biology he’d seen. He couldn’t think of anything off the top of his head, but it had to exist.

The short alien once again dragged him away from that safe, non-painful thought by speaking. “That is not how we do things. We are not concerned with punishment, only granting peace to all those you have caused to suffer.”

Jason’s bullshit alarm and general distrust of authority figures rammed into his suffocating guilt like an unstoppable force ramming into an immovable object. He knew that not even giving your prisoner a chance to defend himself was tyrannical bullshit, but he also knew that he _had_ spread all sorts of suffering throughout the universe, no matter how good his intentions had been. He wanted to scream, cry, and bash his head against whatever slab he was laying on until everything went black, all at the same time.

If the aliens noticed his discomfort, they didn’t seem to care, as the short one kept right on talking like they were a fucking flight attendant giving a pre-flight speech on crash protocols. “Thirdly, there is no reason for you not to eat and drink. As you have experienced, we have other, unavoidable methods of incapacitating you for transport.”

Actually, there was one very tempting reason not to eat or drink: Being contrary. Tempting as it was, it was also ultimately pretty stupid. His chances of escape were a lot worse if he was plagued with hunger and thirst. Not that he’d acknowledge it out loud, of course. The only response these bird-people were getting from him was a glare.

The short alien’s eyes darted to something he couldn’t see. He wondered if it was a teleprompter or something and if they actually had a script for this sort of situation. Once they’d read their lines or whatever, they gave a small nod and walked out of his field of vision, along with the bigger one that was apparently just there to stand around and look intimidating.

Jason barely had time to internally grumble about how he apparently wasn’t even worth a proper goodbye before the smell of knockout gas once again prickled inside his nostrils. Before he blacked out, he made sure to flip off anyone who might be looking at the right camera from the right angle at the right moment. That’d show ‘em.

He woke up back in his cell. At least they put him back on his cot instead of just dropping him on the floor. He could appreciate that, even if he doubted it was done out of compassion. They probably just wanted to make sure he looked good for the camera during his execution.

His execution.

His _execution._

“Fuck,” he whispered, burying his head in the pillow, or at least as much as he could when it was more like a porous rock than something meant for actual comfort.

He should have known something like this was coming. He couldn’t even fathom the number of people he’d hurt. They deserved justice. They deserved better than, ‘Oh, don’t worry, somebody played a song and the guy killed himself, take our word for it, no you can’t see the body, oh and by the way he’s back again and everyone’s acting like it never happened, and it’s not like anyone’s going to bring the Phoenix Force to justice without making the universe implode’. He wondered if they’d gotten even that much. They deserved closure.

 _You dying won’t give them that,_ he told himself. _Just like killing the Joker didn’t give you that. It won’t stop the nightmares. It won’t fill in the holes left behind. People will still get hurt whether you’re alive to do it yourself or not._

He couldn’t fathom the number of times he’d told himself that, either. It hadn’t fully convinced him before, and it sure as hell wasn’t going to fully convince him now.

He didn’t need to be fully convinced for his survival instincts to kick in, though.

He sat up, wiped the tears from his eyes, and gave the room a scan. Still dark. Was that a legitimate tactic to keep people from escaping, or was the person in charge of building this place just stingy and didn’t think it worth budgeting? No, now wasn’t the time for comforting side-thoughts. For all he knew, he could get knocked out and dragged off for beheading any minute. If they’d give him something as merciful as beheading, anyway. Drawing and quartering had been pretty popular for a while on Earth, maybe these aliens were still in that phase. Or –

No, now wasn’t the time for non-comforting side-thoughts, either. Those were even less helpful. Now wasn’t the time for any thoughts except how to get out or call for help.

First off, he needed to make sure he could think as clearly as possible, and that meant getting some food and water. There was still a tray by the door. He cautiously got to his feet and found that he was steadier than before (and his heart felt a little more stable, which was an even bigger relief), but he still had to lean on the wall as he made his way over. It was probably for the best that he couldn’t see his food properly, because the smell alone was unappetizing enough. Ah, well, he’d eaten worse.

He swallowed the slop as quickly as he could without activating his gag reflex. The best he could say about what little he tasted of it was that he had, in fact, eaten worse, though he couldn’t think of any examples that hadn’t been dug out of a dumpster several days after it had been thrown out. He didn’t throw it up, and it probably had _some_ nutritional value, so he considered it a success.

The metal cup that came with it was empty. “When I get out of here, I’m going nuclear on their Yelp page,” he muttered to himself as he filled it up at the sink. “One star, worst prison experience I’ve ever had, would not recommend.” He took a sip, and once again the nicest thing he had to say was that it wasn’t quite as bad as the times he stuck his tongue out to catch the polluted, quite possibly acidic raindrops on his tongue and got a mouthful of car exhaust from the street along with it.

It did the job, though. Now that the lower levels of the hierarchy of needs were fulfilled or whatever, he was already thinking a little clearer. He could do this. He _had_ to do this. He had to survive this. He wasn’t putting his family through all that again. They’d been through enough. _Jason_ had been through enough. He’d been through way too much just to end up killed by some random evil aliens he’d never met before for whatever bullshit political agenda they were trying to accomplish. If he was going to get killed, it was going to be because of his own stupid-ass decisions, not because of… whatever the fuck these guys wanted.

 _But it_ is _because of your decisions. You chose to ignore the Phoenix’s advice. You chose to make yourself judge, jury, and executioner. You chose –_

Jason shook himself. “Shut up,” he snarled, and got to work investigating his cell before he could think any more.


	13. Undue Process

Roy felt like he was on the verge of spontaneously combusting. He couldn’t make any more arrows or gadgets without delving into the emergency stash (which had a sign hanging over it reminding him that ‘emergency’ was classified as a case of literal, imminent life-or-death) or stealing something from the ship (which might compromise the life-support systems and, even worse, would guarantee an earful from Kori). Any more physical training would do more harm than good to his body. He was nowhere near familiar enough with Shi’ar programming to try hacking into their systems and getting more intel on all the defenses between them and Jason.

There wasn’t anything he could do to help, and if they didn’t get spotted and shot down soon all the nervous energy squirming in his chest might just give him a heart attack.

He tried scrolling through his various social media feeds. He could never get far before he got so bitter at all the inane bullshit people were complaining about that he wanted to throw his phone out the airlock. He tried playing just about every game they had on the PlayStation. He couldn’t quite focus on them, and any game that was easy enough for that not to spell constant, frustrating game overs was also easy enough for his mind to wander into dangerous territory while playing them. He tried reading some of the books he’d been meaning to get around to. He gave up after he had to turn a page back ten times because he realized he’d barely absorbed a dozen words of it.

It was almost a relief when he heard Kori exclaim something in a language he didn’t know, but in a tone universally reserved for swearing. He practically sprinted over to the cockpit and had to grab onto the doorframe to make sure his momentum didn’t carry him straight past it. “What’s up?” he panted.

Kori’s eyes flickered between him and the screen, which displayed what appeared to be some sort of news broadcast that was displaying side-by-side pictures. One was a bit blurry, and quite a bit of it was obscured with fire, but it was obviously a helmetless, maskless Jason. The other was a lot clearer, and also obviously showed a helmetless, maskless Jason, albeit unconscious.

Roy tried to feel a little better about the fact Jason wasn’t showing any visible signs of injury (for all that meant when it only showed his face and alien photoshop was probably way better than the human stuff), but the fact that _Kori_ looked scared squashed that real quick. “What happened?” he asked.

Kori took a deep breath before she answered. “We were right. It was the Shi’ar that took him. It seems somebody recognized him on Nicrahines and reported it to them. And it… it seems they took him with the intent to publicly execute him for his actions during the Dark Phoenix Incident.”

Roy didn’t have the words to describe what went through his head after that, other than _No no no no no no no no_ , much less words to speak out loud. All he could do was stare at her in dumbfounded silence.

“The Lanterns are already making contact with them,” Kori quickly assured him. “If we are lucky, and they put up enough of a fuss about jurisdiction, the Shi’ar may release Jason without a fight. If we are not lucky, it will at least buy us time to formulate a plan.”

A plan. Right. They still had time. He had to think about this as a mission to extract Red Hood from enemy territory, not a desperate attempt to save Jaybird from certain, probably painful death. Maybe his old government superiors had a point about the whole ‘emotionally compromised’ thing. Except right now he and Kori (who was definitely emotionally compromised, too) were the only ones close enough to swoop in and do anything if things went ahead of schedule, so everyone would just have to make do.

Even with that in mind, his voice still sounded rough as he said, “Now that we know the stakes, do you know anyone willing and able to help us hack into their systems and get us the layout of where they’re keeping him?”

“From what I understand, their operating systems are relatively close to human ones,” said Kori, changing to a different page on her screen. “I think Oracle would be able to do it, with some help.”

Damn, Kori really was desperate if she was calling Barbara in. It wasn’t like she hated her or anything, but she was (understandably, in Roy’s opinion) a little uncomfortable interacting too much with the current serious, long-term, probably-going-to-get-married girlfriend of the ex-fiance she dumped for stupid, ignorant, victim-blaming reasons she now regretted. Honestly, considering all the disastrous teen romances that went down, it was a miracle the Titans got along as well as they did.

“Anything I can do?” he asked, trusting that she’d hear the silent, _If I have to sit around doing nothing for another minute, I’m going to grab an escape pod, launch myself down onto this planet and run around shooting arrows until I find Jason or die._

Kori considered it for a moment, then gave him a pitying look. “The only thing I can think of is doing damage control with the Bats.”

Roy swore under his breath. Going on a suicide run almost felt more tempting than _that._ Almost. As difficult as it would be, at the very least he owed it to Dick to deliver the news to him as gently as possible. “I’m on it,” he sighed, retreating to the lounge. This was the kind of news that was both best delivered and best received sitting down.

He dialed Dick’s number and tapped his foot at the tempo of a caffeinated squirrel’s heartbeat as he waited for him to pick up.

It didn’t take too long. “Any updates?” he asked in full Nightwing mode.

Shit. Part of Roy had been hoping he’d already know. Of all the times for the Bat information network to fail… “Uh, yeah, it… It’s not good.”

“Get to the point, Arsenal,” Dick snapped.

Fine. Better to rip the band-aid off all at once. “The Shi’ar identified Jason as Phoenix and want to execute him for… everything. The Lanterns are going to try and work some legal jurisdiction magic to get him out, and if they can’t, Kori and I are orbiting the planet he’s on and preparing to extract him.”

The only sound that came over the line was a rhythmic rush of static that was probably Dick’s breathing. It quickly grew louder, and the rhythm grew faster and faster.

“Nightwing, you’re going to hyperventilate,” Roy warned. “Deep breaths. You can’t help anyone if you’re passed out.”

The static slowed. “Right,” Dick gasped. “Sorry. I just… _Fuck._ ”

“I know. We’re doing everything we can.” Roy wished he could give him more than that, but it was all he had. It would have to be enough.

“I know. I know you are, I just… We can’t lose him again, Roy.”

“You won’t,” Roy promised before his better judgement could kick in. So much for not giving more than he had. He had zero guarantee that they wouldn’t lose Jason. Giving false hope had far too high a chance of ending horribly. But the words were out there now, and Roy would just have to make sure they came true. If he didn’t…

“Thanks,” said Dick, voice still thick. “I’d try to help, but I doubt Batman’s going to step away from the computer until Jason’s back, and somebody needs to keep an eye on Batgirl and Robin.”

“You know, I feel like at this point you should just officially join the single dad club,” Roy sighed. Dealing with one small, untrained, (mostly) wonderfully well-behaved child was difficult enough. Anyone who had to wrangle multiple reckless, highly-trained, maladjusted vigilantes deserved a goddamn medal, especially when they _were_ one of those reckless, highly-trained, maladjusted vigilantes forced to step up because the one that was supposed to be doing it decided to show them all who was the boss when it came to maladjustment.

Dick let out a weak chuckle. “It certainly feels like it sometimes. Speaking of, how’s Lian?”

Roy knew an attempted change of subject when he heard one, and he knew that right now it was sorely needed. He told Dick every detail he remembered about his visit with her (all the fun ones, at least, no need to dampen the mood), taking care to dance around how their trip to San Francisco had ended.

He was almost out of details when Dick interrupted him. “Hold on, I got a text.” A moment later, he let out a quiet swear and said, “I gotta go. Tim just found out.”

Yup, dealing with that would definitely require Dick’s undivided attention. “All right. Talk to you later.”

“You’d better. Be careful.”

Roy lay back on the couch and let the phone fall on his chest. Nothing like talking about how your good friend’s baby brother (who was also your friend) was on the cusp of public execution to tucker you out.

Then he realized that if Tim knew, Batman definitely did, and if this had tuckered Roy out, he’d probably pass out trying to do damage control with Batman. He let out a groan and decided to take a nap so he could muster as much energy as possible for the inevitable.

* * *

So, apparently whoever was holding Jason captive (Kori mentioned the Shi’ar were poking around again, maybe it was them?) had the same approach to cell-building that suburban architects had to house-building; make every single one the exact fucking same. He legitimately thought he might be losing his mind when he tried tapping against the walls again and found the sounds completely different. All four walls were the same thickness, now. Apparently, the planet-side prisons got a bigger budget than the spaceship ones. Not much need to prevent escape when the vacuum of space was there, he supposed.

On the plus side, he could now escape without dying. Hopefully. Fuck, did their planet have the same kind of atmosphere as Earth? The aliens he’d seen hadn’t been wearing any rebreathers or whatever when they talked to him, so they probably breathed the same kind of air. But what if they’d specifically taken him to a planet they couldn’t traverse safely without the proper equipment, just to make escape that much harder?

 _Stop overthinking it,_ he scolded himself. _If you don’t get out, you’re gonna die anyway. Might as well be on your terms._

He went through all the stuff he had, seeing what worked and what didn’t. To make a long story short, anything with moving parts could only be used to smack people, and not very well at that. Even his switchblade was working funky. So, basically, he had a bunch of shitty blunt instruments and some knives. Not exactly ideal for escaping from a sci-fi prison.

What he needed was information. If he could just know where the cameras were pointed, he might stand a chance. Unfortunately, he hadn’t seen a single person since his little execution pep-talk. Judging by the lack of footsteps and abundance of mechanical whirring, it seemed that the food delivery system was entirely automated. Without any hacking tools, he didn’t stand much chance of manipulating a series of levers and pulleys into letting information slip. It was probably too much to hope that it would spontaneously become self-aware and be eager to rise up against its organic overlords. Definitely too much to count on, so Jason looked elsewhere.

There was always the classic ‘Oh, no, I have suddenly fallen violently ill, a lone guard had better come in to inspect me so I can punch them out’ ploy. Apparently, it had actually worked once for Bruce and Dick. Except they hadn’t had any cameras staring right at them watching every move they took. Maybe Jason didn’t have one, either, so it might be worth a shot, but this was the sort of thing that usually didn’t work more than once. If he was going to do it, he wanted it to be as perfect as possible, which would require information, which he didn’t have, and his train of thought would loop right back around to the beginning.

It was honestly kind of a relief to smell knock-out gas again. At least it meant _something_ was happening, and not to brag or anything but he was pretty good at taking advantage of surprises. Sure, sometimes he took advantage of them to get into an even bigger mess, but the odds were still better than him sitting around trying to remember what the easiest yet most dangerous symptoms to fake were.

He wasn’t sure exactly when he woke up, much less where. Everything was still all blurry and dreamlike and it felt like his body was a million miles away. He might have blinked, or he might have gone back to sleep and woken up again hours later. He couldn’t tell.

Somebody was talking. Loudly. He opened his eyes and tried to focus. All he saw was green. All he could really think clearly was that the voice made him feel annoyed, and not just because of the volume and static in it. He closed his eyes again and tried to focus on the words.

“… rule? Yeah, I bet he would. He’s probably had it all planned out for years just in case something like this happened. Why couldn’t Supes have come? He’d be fine if it was Supes.”

That still made very little sense, but very little was still more than zero.

Jason realized his cheek was resting on something hard. He lifted his head, then quickly put it back down before he threw up.

“Whoa, hey, kid, you awake? Can you hear me?”

Jason couldn’t put his feelings into words, so he just let out a groan.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” said the voice, and for some reason the tone made Jason really, really want to punch him. “The Shi’ar said you had an ‘adverse reaction’ to the sedative. I’m guessing they’ll only find the antidote once our time’s up.”

Adverse reaction? He’d been fine last time. What was different now?

_The difference is that you might be talking to someone who actually wants to help you, and they want you as unresponsive as possible._

The anger he felt at that thought gave him just enough clarity to lift his head without throwing up and open his eyes again. At first, he still only saw a shade of green bright enough to make him want to never open his eyes again, but he persisted, and soon enough he could make out some features. Some _familiar_ features.

“Hal?” he slurred. “The fuck?”

“Yeah, trust me, I wasn’t my first choice to be here, either. But Superman wasn’t official enough, and Kyle’s got that whole White Lantern thing going, so here I am.”

Maybe it was just the whole being drugged thing, but that made pretty much zero sense to Jason. “White Lantern?” he repeated, or at least tried to. It came out more like, “What learn?”

Thankfully, Hal wasn’t a _total_ idiot and figured out what he meant. “You didn’t hear about it? He ended up on the wrong side of the Source Wall, had a chat with the Phoenix Force, and it made him a White Lantern. Obviously, the Shi'ar don't want him anywhere near you in case the Phoenix gets any ideas.”

Maybe it was just the whole being drugged thing, but the only word Jason could come up with for the emotion he felt was _jealousy._ Wielding the Phoenix’s power was supposed to be _his_ thing, no one else’s. That was the whole point he was alive. He was the only one the Phoenix Force wanted. It had known Kyle for, like, a couple days at most, and most of it had been spent arguing and making jabs at each other. Why would the Phoenix make him a White Lantern after one conversation? How come Kyle got to have all that power and none of the drawbacks Jason had to deal with?

He was yanked back to reality by a loud, nearby thumping sound and shouting. Somewhere in the midst of his thoughts, he’d let his eyes slip closed and his head rest on the hard surface (table?) again. He should probably conserve his energy, so he kept his eyes closed and head down as he grunted, “I’m awake.”

The thumping and shouting stopped. “All right,” said Hal. “You wanna act like it?”

“Nope.”

There came a rush of static that Jason was in no shape to translate as anything besides ‘vaguely unhappy’. “Well, at least they didn’t completely drug the personality out of you. Guess I’ll just have to talk at you.”

Under normal circumstances, there were few things Jason would like less than the prospect of Hal Jordan talking at him for a prolonged period of time. These were not normal circumstances. Just laying there with his eyes closed and listening sounded pretty damn good.

“We managed to get you an actual trial. Not a very fair one, from the looks of it, but it’s something. The Shi’ar’s claim on this case is pretty shaky, jurisdiction-wise. Obviously, they had zero permission to go to Earth and kidnap you, and they only annexed the sector where you… y’know… did a lot damage after you’d already done it. I’m not exactly an expert, but I think they’re less interested in bringing you to justice and more with getting the people they conquered to stop hating them so much.”

That actually made sense to Jason, albeit not as much as it probably would have if he were sober and fully conscious. He could take a little smug joy in knowing he’d been right to think it had been the Shi’ar, and that it had been for bullshit reasons. This whole situation might be fucked, but he was right and could tell an imaginary doubter ‘I told you so’, and at the end of the day, what more could you ask for?

Fuck, his brain was fucked up right now.

Hal continued, either not noticing Jason’s misfiring brain cells or just not caring. “I was gonna say that you not being allowed to testify in person is bad news, but considering how much they messed you up just for this, I think that’s actually good news. I just need to take a statement from you about… about your viewpoint on the Dark Phoenix Incident.”

Maybe it was just the drugs, but Jason could have sworn there was some genuine empathy in Hal’s voice. He supposed if anyone knew what it was like to get possessed by a weird space entity and wreak untold destruction, it was Hal. “It was bad,” Jason muttered. “What else am I s’posed to say?”

“Preferably, that it was all the Phoenix Force’s fault and you’re just another victim who absolutely should not be executed for it.”

Jason took a deep breath to quell the painful inferno of emotions burning inside his chest. On the exhale, he said, “But I’m not.”

He heard a rush of static that might have been a sigh. “Look, kid-“

“Not a kid,” Jason attempted to snap, but it probably came out more like a whimper.

“You can’t legally drink in the US. You’re a kid. More specifically, you’re _Batman’s_ kid, and if anything happens to you, we’re all in trouble. Especially me, because I’m the one responsible for getting something non-incriminating on the record.”

A new color was added to the inferno, a sickly shade of… fuck, what color would guilt be? No, there wasn’t time for that. Jason needed to squeeze this opportunity for everything it was worth. “Isn’t this on the record?” he asked. “Seems pretty incriminatin’.”

“No, it’s not on the record. Not the Shi’ar’s, anyway. And if it is, it’s not legally allowed and they can’t use it against us.”

Jason doubted it was as simple as that, but he didn’t feel like arguing, which was one hell of a red flag for his current mental state. Fuck, his head hurt. “What’s the question, again?”

“Eh, I dunno, I’ll ask a new one. Martian Manhunter and Superman say that Batman managed to get through to you, but the Phoenix Force took over and ran away before he could convince you to stop. Is that true?”

Thinking about that time made Jason’s head hurt more than enough when it was functioning properly. Now, when it was already overburdened by just five senses? _Ugh_. But he had to do it, because even if he didn’t think he deserved to be alive, his family did, and he didn’t want to hurt them.

“I dunno,” he said honestly. “Maybe it woulda worked. Maybe not. Phoenix stepped in before we found out.”

“I’ll record that as a yes,” said Hal.

“Aren’t you supposed to tell the whole truth and nothing but the truth?” Jason asked.

“The Shi’ar won’t, why should we?”

Jason let out a weak chuckle. “Not very superhero-y of you.”

“Batman does enough moralizing for all of us. I just want to get you out of here. Unfortunately, just blasting our way out would probably cause an intergalactic war and definitely get me fired. I don’t want to get you out of here _that_ much.”

Jason couldn’t come up with a properly scathing response, so he just flipped him off.

“Yeah, yeah, I don’t like you, either. Let’s get through this quickly and we can go back to never interacting. You up for more questions?”

No, he wasn’t, but he was pretty used to doing things he couldn’t handle for the sake of survival, so he just nodded.

“All right. Was the Incident your idea or the Phoenix Force’s?”

It took Jason a second to recognize the capital I in the way Hal said Incident, and another couple to formulate an answer. “The Phoenix’s.” He didn’t have the energy to try and explain that it only came up with that idea because of his influence, which was probably for the best. He could save up the guilt and self-blame for his therapist, which would require not getting executed before his next appointment.

“Great. Let’s keep that up, shall we? Whose idea was it to consume the D’Bari star?”

Welp, so much for saving guilt for later. It took Jason longer to answer that one, because he had to wait until he was reasonably certain he wouldn’t throw up the second his mouth was open. He might have thrown up a little anyway, if the taste on his tongue wasn’t just his imagination, but he swallowed it down and muttered, “Phoenix. Didn’t know what it was doing ‘til after.”

“Do you know why the Phoenix consumed it?”

“Needed to refuel.” Fuck, Jason needed to refuel, too. He hoped this didn’t take too much longer. He wasn’t sure how long he’d last before he passed out, threw up, burst into tears, or any combination of the three.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“It used up a lotta energy. Needed a snack, and…” _And one of its children would have to do._ Fuck, hold on, Jason needed to focus on not throwing up again.

“Any reason for it to choose that star in particular?”

“I dunno… I…” Jason slowly moved a hand to rub at his forehead, as if he could knead the ache and memories away. He was shaking too much to do much good. He hoped it was just from the memories. But hope wasn’t enough to get him out of here. If he didn’t have much time left, he needed to make it count.

“I’ve got a translator,” he said as clearly as he could, pointing at where he could still feel something hard and cold inside his ear. “Like Nicar… Nicran… the space mall place. If I get outta range or try to take it off…” He did his best to imitate what he thought a brain-melting signal would sound like.

“Okay,” said Hal slowly and confusedly. “Why – Oh. Yeah, that’d make escape a lot trickier. Don’t try anything, okay? We’ll figure something out. Do _not_ do anything stupid.”

Jason wanted to say something about how it was going to take a lot more than that to stop him from being an idiot, but he couldn’t find the words. He couldn’t find any words. Now that he couldn’t think of any more pertinent, concrete information regarding his rescue, his brain felt like it was shutting down. His heart was also acting all wonky again, as if he needed any more discomfort and reasons to panic.

“Uh, Hood? You still there?”

He was, but he was fading fast. Too fast to say any of the million things he needed to – extra details that could help get him off the hook, every scrap of information he had on his cell, goodbyes in case the worst happened. The words weren’t there. Nothing was there, anymore. Only pain, exhaustion, and his heart starting and stopping in his chest, until finally even that was gone.


	14. Relieve

Bruce woke up in a bed, which was confusing because the last thing he remembered was sitting at the Batcomputer poring over witness statements.

He took stock of what he could without opening his eyes and letting on that he was awake. The bed wasn’t soft enough to be his own, and he could hear the faint hum of machinery and chittering of bats. The medical bay of the Batcave, then? He wasn’t injured or ill. Perhaps Alfred or one of the kids saw him slumped over the computer, took pity on him, and wheeled the chair over to dump him in the nearest proper bed. It would be far from the first time.

He opened his eyes and found he was correct. He sat up and, for the first time in days, did not need to wait for his head to stop spinning before he rose to his feet. He should have gotten some sleep sooner. He knew that a lack of concentration due to exhaustion was far worse than taking a break for a few hours.

It was one thing to know he should sleep. It was another to actually do so while his son was lightyears away from home, held captive by a totalitarian state intent on publicly executing him. Even if he logically knew he needed to take care of himself to be in full form, every moment not spent fully devoted to the case felt like he was betraying Jason.

He looked down at his watch. He’d been asleep for five hours. Far too much could happen in five hours. He turned to the computer and realized someone was already sitting at it.

“Hey, B,” said Tim, eyes still fixed on the screen as his fingers flew over the keyboard.

“Any updates?” Bruce asked, wincing at how rough his voice sounded. Had he foregone water as well as sleep and food? The past few days had been such a blur, he couldn’t remember.

Tim gestured to the water cooler as he said, “Hal submitted Jason’s testimony.”

Bruce stumbled mid-step, stomach churning in a way that had little to do with hunger. He took a deep breath and continued on to the water cooler, took a plastic cup from the stack, filled it, and drank deeply before he dared let himself respond. “What does it say?” he finally asked.

“Not much.” Tim hesitated for a moment, which was not a good sign. “Apparently he was suffering an adverse reaction to the sedative they used to transport him and wasn’t very talkative.”

It took a great deal of discipline for Bruce not to crush the cup between his fingers. “What sort of adverse reaction?”

“The Shi’ar didn’t give any details. Hal said he was unconscious when he got there, and he was barely conscious for a couple minutes before he passed out again.”

“What’s his current status?” Bruce demanded, feet carrying him over to the computer almost of their own volition.

“The Shi’ar say he’s stable. Since that is in their best interests, I believe them.”

Bruce took a deep breath and another gulp of water. Tim was right. The Shi’ar needed Jason alive. But they didn’t need him healthy. What if there were side-effects? How long-term might those be? What if they got Jason back, only to –

He was standing next to the chair, next to all the information that was his only useful weapon in this fight. “I’ll take over,” he said, putting the cup down in the cup-holder Dick had insisted on installing. Or had it been Steph? Or had she been complaining about cupholders in the Batmobile? It was all too fuzzy to quite make out.

“No,” said Tim firmly. “You are going upstairs, eating something, and taking a shower. I can handle this.”

Bruce opened his mouth to argue, but the smell of body odor that hit his tongue was all the counter-argument Tim needed. Also, it had taken Bruce this long to remember that Tim hadn’t been in Gotham before he woke up. He must have flown all the way across the country to help, and clearly Bruce needed it.

Still, the words to admit he was wrong refused to leave his lips, so he simply nodded and walked over to the exit.

He decided on a shower first. It would give him time to think, especially since the walk from his office to his en suite was enough time for him to check his phone for updates.

Hal’s report was at the top of the list on the phone, but not on Bruce’s priorities. If he started reading, he wouldn’t be able to stop and end up marching right back to the Batcave to try (and most likely fail) to fix everything. Instead, he opened up a message from Kyle Rayner.

_It’s hard to tell, but I think the Phoenix Force has been acting weird since Red Hood was taken._

Damn it. As if they didn’t already have enough to worry about. If the Phoenix came within a lightyear of Jason again, Bruce would… do nothing, because no amount of planning could defeat the Big Bang itself. If it decided it wanted Jason as a host again, there wasn’t anything anyone short of Death herself that could do anything to stop it.

 _Or maybe it isn’t something to worry about,_ part of him thought. _Maybe it’s the opposite. If we fail, then maybe the Phoenix will step in and save him._

He knew the thought shouldn’t be comforting. There was a very good chance that Jason himself would consider death better than risking the Phoenix turning its wrath and misguided sense of justice upon the universe again. And yet, all Bruce could focus on was the fact that Jason would be alive. He knew it was selfish, and such a thing could condemn countless other fathers to the pain of losing their sons in his stead, but he couldn’t help it. Despite his best efforts, he was still only human.

By the time he was able to shake his thoughts and come out of autopilot, he was already showered and pulling on the first pieces of clothing he could grab from his closet. It seemed giving himself time to think hadn’t been such a good idea. Perhaps it would be better to simply focus on the mission, one objective at a time. Throw his old clothes (he hadn’t gone on patrol, and putting on the suit wasted valuable time, so he hadn’t bothered getting out of his civvies before he got to work) in the hamper, check his reflection to make sure nobody had a panic attack at the sight of him (his hair was still a damp mess, and there were dark circles under his eyes, but that was often the norm for all of them), walk out of the room and go down to the kitchen.

Opening the fridge revealed several plastic containers with sticky notes attached detailing what meal they contained and how long it should be microwaved for. It was astonishing how Alfred could make him feel like a guilty, misbehaving child through handwriting alone. He grabbed a stir-fry, dumped it on a plate, and put it in the microwave for the suggested time.

He stared blankly at the timer, the droning buzz of the microwave serving as the perfect white noise to keep his mind just as blank.

His attention snapped back to reality at the creak of the door opening. Barbara’s head poked through the gap, eyes widening at the sight of him in a way that exacerbated the dark circles and redness of too little sleep. Once her surprise faded, smiled and said, “I almost didn’t believe Tim when he said he actually got you out of the cave. What are you making?”

“Stir-fry,” he grunted.

“Nice.” She stared at him thoughtfully for a few moments. “If I go down to work with Tim now, will you only eat half of that so you can rush downstairs to help?”

He tried to think of how to convincingly say no.

His silence was apparently all the answer she needed. “Thought so.” She opened the door fully and wheeled over to the table, where there was an empty space for her. “Let’s go over everything up here, then, so we know we’re on the same page.”

Bruce stopped the microwave and pulled his plate out a second before the timer went off. As far as he could tell, there wasn’t anyone in earshot to be troubled by the noise, but it was important to reinforce good habits. “All right. What do you know?”

As it turned out, she knew even more than he did. Starfire had contacted her to help hack into the Shi’ar’s systems, and she’d actually read through Hal’s report. Apparently, in addition to keeping him imprisoned and sedating him whenever they moved him, they’d also fitted Jason with a translator that was essentially a bomb primed to explode at the first sign of escape or tampering. Bruce made sure to think of it only as another obstacle to be dealt with to complete the mission, and not as… not as anything else. Barbara sent him the schematics for the model it was probably based on, so in theory they should be able to find a way to neutralize it. Bruce had worked with alien technology before, and if his skill wasn’t enough, he had allies he could call on.

His taste buds barely had time to register the flavor as he wolfed his food down, eager to get to work. He knew he still wasn’t at one-hundred percent – a few hours of sleep, a shower, and a single meal hardly made up for the neglect he’d put his body through – but he couldn’t risk waiting. Not with so much at stake. He would sleep when Jason was home. Not much, knowing Jason and the rest of the kids, but more than he was getting now.

It would be fine. They’d figure everything out. There was no alternative. None that he would consider.

* * *

Kori had to turn off the news five minutes after the start of Jason’s trial was announced. They were not actually showing any footage, and would not be reporting on the proceedings until they were done for the day (and they could spin it in the most propaganda-friendly package possible). All the newscasters were doing was praising the Shi’ar authorities for their swift and decisive action in capturing the very evil and very dangerous Phoenix, along with slandering the Lantern Corps for trying to prevent justice from being served. If Kori had to listen to it for another minute, she was putting a starbolt through the screen, and those were expensive to replace, so she turned it off and stalked to the kitchen to make herself something to eat.

It was a good thing she had invested in sturdy kitchenware, because ordinary plates would most likely have crumbled beneath her fingers and pot handles would have bent until they snapped or were rendered unusable. As it was, she made quite a bit of noise as she slammed everything down on the counter harder than necessary.

Roy must have heard the commotion and came to investigate. “Any news?” he asked.

“The trial has begun,” she answered, holding a measuring cup up to her eye as she ensured she was putting in the correct amount of water. She had an appliance that would do it automatically, but it was a fragile machine and might not survive her anger. “The rest of the broadcast could hardly be called ‘news’.”

Roy took a seat at the table. “Do you mean fluff pieces about some Shi’ar celebrity getting a divorce, or blatant propaganda?”

“Propaganda. As I understand it, the closest thing the Shi’ar have to celebrities are the royal family and their greatest warriors. Nobody would dare publicly speak of the private matters of the former, and all anyone is concerned with regarding the latter is their ability to continue fighting for the empire.”

“Really?” Roy asked, raising an eyebrow. “There is not a single citizen interested in whether the super buff, important, powerful people on the TV are single?”

Kori ground her teeth as she delicately poured the water into the bowl. “Roy, please, I am not in the mood for jokes.”

“Right. Sorry.”

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him stare down at his hands as they fidgeted, and she realized that while her mood would not be improved by such things, perhaps his would. Unfortunately, that had always been the strong suit of others on the team, never hers.

 _Jason would know what to say,_ she could not quite stop herself from thinking. _At the very least, he’d be able to get Roy angry about something else._

Kori did her best to push the thought aside and focus on stirring. The two tasks became more closely linked than was ideal, resulting in her stirring with such force that she had to stop before the contents of the bowl went flying out. She took several deep, calming breaths, while behind her she could hear the scrape of Roy pushing his chair back and the soft thuds of his footsteps.

“You want me to handle this?” he asked, gesturing to the bowl.

Kori nodded. “That would be for the best, I think.”

She took a seat at the table while he took her place. “So, uh, what are you making?”

Kori opened her mouth to answer, then realized the chances of him being familiar with a Tamaranean dish she could not recall making for their team before were very slim, even if she was substituting certain ingredients to make sure he could eat it without damaging anything. The chances of him being able to pronounce the name were also rather slim, so she pulled up one of the table’s screens (originally intended to be used during mission briefings, but had probably seen more use for mundane situations such as this) and said, “Something Tamaranean. Allow me to pull up a recipe for you.”

“All right. Thanks.”

Kori found an appropriate one, pressed the translation button, made sure to scroll past the introductory paragraphs detailing the fond memories the writer had connected with this dish, and transferred it to the screen that served as the backsplash (originally intended to settle the vicious arguments over what tile pattern to use, and doing its job splendidly). “Do not worry about the ingredients. I have already added the ones I chose.”

“You know there’s not much point following a recipe if you don’t… y’know… follow the recipe?” Roy asked with an attempt at a smirk, but his eyes were still far too dark for it to be genuine.

“I only substituted some ingredients to make it more palatable for humans,” she explained. “It should be fine.”

Roy nodded and fixed his attention on the screen. His rigid posture relaxed somewhat as he went through the steps in a way that made Kori almost regret handing the task over and leaving her with nothing to do. She made sure the screens were disconnected and, against her better judgement, looked for any updates on the trial. All she found were rumors that made her stomach churn.

Perhaps Roy figured out what she was looking at, or perhaps it was simply coincidence that he chose then to ask, “Any word from Oracle yet?”

“None,” she replied, staring blankly at the screen and trying to think of something productive she could do, or something that could take her mind off things. For the former, all she could think of was asking Komand’r to try and help, but that could go terribly wrong in all sorts of ways, and for the latter, she knew that any reprieve would be swiftly followed by guilt at enjoying herself while Jason was… No, she could not allow herself to think of what might be happening to Jason.

“Right.” Roy poured the contents of the mixing bowl into the appropriate pan and slipped it into the oven at what she could only hope was the appropriate temperature. With that done, he took a step back and a deep breath. “So… any ideas for what we do now?”

Kori sighed. “Worry? I can think of little else.”

Roy took a seat opposite her and slumped over the table, chin resting on his folded arms. “You’d think after all these years we’d be better at this.”

Kori dismissed the screen so she could properly meet his eyes. “We have been fortunate enough to rarely be without any tasks to do. Or friends more optimistic than us.”

“Guess so.” Roy’s eyes drifted to the wall, fingers drumming against the tabletop. “Wanna spar or something?”

Kori knew Roy too well to take that at face value. “If you are in good enough condition to spar, you would be in good enough condition to train by yourself, and would not need such a distraction.”

Roy’s eyes went back to hers so she could not avoid noticing his pout. “It’d be fine. I’ve had some time to rest, and I know how to avoid pulling anything.”

Kori let out a doubtful _hmm._ On the one hand, Roy was clearly desperate for some sort of stimulation and, in the heat of the moment, might consider pain an acceptable distraction. On the other, Kori herself was also in sore need of distraction, and it would be best if both of them could find one together in the least destructive form possible.

An idea struck her. “I will not spar with you,” she said. “But I am open to other forms of physical stress relief.”

Roy’s expression grew slightly suspicious. “Such as…?”

“Sex,” she said. She had long since learned that most humans would tie themselves into knots to avoid talking or even thinking of such matters unless you were blunt with them.

As expected, Roy’s eyes widened with shock and his mouth opened and closed a couple times as his prudish human mind wrapped around the concept. “Like… between you and me?” he eventually asked.

“Yes. It is only a suggestion, of course. If you are not comfortable with it, we can find something else to do.”

Roy stared at her. She could practically see his mind’s engine switching to lightspeed as it struggled with the concept. “You mean, like, a friends with benefits kind of deal?”

“For the moment, at least. I value you as a friend, and consider you attractive enough, but I have no interest in a romantic relationship with you.”

Roy silently stared at her a few moments more, gaze (seemingly unconsciously) roaming across her body. “Uh, ditto, I guess.” Abruptly, he rose to his feet and said, “Fuck it, why not?” His eyes darted over to the oven. “We’ve got… forty-three and a half minutes.”

Kori rose to her feet, took his hand, and began leading him to the bedroom. “Excellent. Given past experience, that should be more than enough time.”

“Really?” Roy asked. “I feel like you might want to get some better experiences, then.”

“I mean for one climax,” she explained. “Under more favorable circumstances, I would prefer more, but time is of the essence.”

She was not looking at him, too focused on not tripping over something or walking them into a wall or something and completely ruining the mood, but she could hear the smirk in his voice as he said, “That sounds like a challenge.”

She turned back to shoot him a warning look. “If you injure yourself in a foolish effort to prove your masculinity, I am informing Black Canary.”

Roy’s confidence broke clean in half. “All right, fine, Jesus Christ, low blow, Kori.”

They’d reached the bedroom. As she opened the door, she saw the muscles in his jaw and felt those in his hand tense. “What is it?” she asked.

He avoided her eyes and shifted uncomfortably. “Can we use one of the bunks? Lian slept in that bed.”

“Of course,” said Kori, closing the door and deciding not to mention that said bed had been long sullied before Lian slept in it. The mood was already fragile enough.

Finally, they reached an appropriate bunk. Once again, Roy tensed, and Kori looked back at him to see what was wrong. “You know you don’t have to do this just to help me out, right?” he asked. “’Cause I’ll find something else to do, I-“

Kori yanked him in front of her, grabbed him by the front of his shirt, and kissed him hard, levitating slightly above the ground and floating them both to the bed. He froze beneath her for only a moment before returning the kiss, hesitation melting as quickly as ice in the heart of a star.

She pulled back, and he stared up at her, pupils blown, chest heaving. “You are not the only one in need of a distraction,” she murmured.

He nodded in understanding, entangled his fingers in the hair at the back of her head, and pulled her close.

They were, in fact, able to have more than one climax.

Roy fell asleep after. Kori felt rather tired as well, but somebody needed to be ready to respond to any updates, and also get the food out of the oven before it burned. She put her clothes back on, made sure Roy was properly tucked in, and walked toward the kitchen, checking her phone as she went.

There was a message from Oracle, informing her that Batman and Red Robin were already making good progress on reverse engineering the translator. She’d also sent along a few pictures of the facility she considered most likely to contain Jason. No blueprints or images of the interior, but it was still the most promising news they’d received yet.

While she ate, Kori pored over the pictures, zooming in as close as she could without the image becoming a formless clump of pixels. It was not as close as she would like. Unsurprising, given all the pictures seemed to be selfies or other such casual photos taken by ordinary civilians and uploaded to various alien social medias, and the building just happened to be in the background. Still, she was at least able to see it from multiple angles and make out several entrances, along with seeing what was around those entrances. Blueprints could not show that. Such knowledge could prove very useful, should they need to surreptitiously stake the place out.

She pulled up one of the table screens and, for once, used it for a mission, creating a tentative map of the prison and its surroundings. It most likely was not very good – she had always been more of a fighter than a planner, and thus had left this sort of thing to more capable hands – but it made her feel at least slightly useful. The only thing she hated more than feeling helpless was seeing people she cared about get hurt. In cases like this, where she was helpless to prevent someone she cared for from being hurt?

The acrid smell of burning plastic scratched its way into her nose. She realized her hands were shimmering with energy and pulled them away before she did any real damage. Close examination showed the worst she’d done was some superficial melting that made the keys harder to read. She had the layout well memorized, but for the sake of those who did not she would have to get it replaced soon.

‘Soon’, as in once she felt she could leave the planet for five minutes and be absolutely certain Jason would not die while she was gone.

Then again, given Jason’s track record, that might be too much to ask for, so she would have to settle for him not dying via public execution.

She was clearly not in a mental state to be doing this. She needed to calm down. Perhaps read a book. Watch one of those human shows her friends recommended. Getting herself into the right mental state was perfectly useful in this scenario, so she would refuse to acknowledge any guilty feelings on the matter.

As she walked down the hall to the lounge, she spotted Roy stumbling down the hall, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. “Uh… hey,” he said, expression brimming with the awkwardness she had hoped he would be above.

“Hello,” she replied. “Did you sleep well?”

“I think so?” he said uncertainly. “I mean, I was asleep for it. Didn’t have any nightmares at least, so, that’s something.”

“Good.” When his awkwardness did not ebb, she added, “I hope you do not feel that our friendship has to change, now.”

Roy relaxed a bit. “Right. Yeah. Sorry, just… not really used to no strings being attached. Not with women I ever plan on seeing again, at least.”

“Well, I suppose you will have to get used to it, since I do not intend on losing you as a friend. As a friend, would you like to watch a television show together?”

Roy’s expression shifted from nervousness to determination, as if he was switching from Roy Harper to Arsenal. “Have we gotten any updates?”

Kori sighed. “None that I can make full use of at the moment. The data is already downloaded in the meeting room, and I left some food for you.”

“All right. Thanks.” Roy purposefully strode to the meeting room and vanished from sight.

Kori went to the lounge and pulled up Netflix on the screen, trying to remember which show had been the most highly recommended by her friends. At first she decided on the one based on a video game (or a book, it had not been made very clear to her), but changed her mind when it showed itself about as dark as her current mood, and she was trying to lighten it. Instead, she chose the one about an office, which was helpfully titled _The Office._ It was a comedy, and even if it did not make her laugh, at least she could be annoyed by far more mundane and light-hearted matters than her current circumstances.

It proved amusing enough, and she continued watching it even when Netflix itself became concerned. She did not yet feel ready to face the world again.

Unfortunately, the world did not care whether she was ready or not, and eventually Roy stumbled into the room, pale and grim.

He answered before she could ask the question of what was wrong. “They found him guilty.”


	15. Give Them a Show

Steph was almost relieved when Babs called her. She’d been staring at her computer for fifteen minutes now trying to figure out how she was supposed to stretch a basic statement and the two shot glasses worth of information she was able to find online into an entire five-page essay. Hearing more about how screwed Jason was would almost be a relief.

Almost.

She readied herself for the worst and answered the phone. “Hey, Babs, what’s up?”

“Hey, Steph,” Babs replied, and holy shit did she sound rough. “Could you keep an eye on Damian tonight?”

“Yeah, sure,” she said, foregoing the usual argument over why she had to get saddled with the demon brat. Those arguments had been getting pretty mild lately anyway, now that the kid had somehow managed to grow on her like a mildly poisonous fungus. “You want me to take him out, or keep him at home?”

“Somebody needs to be out there. Right now, you two are the least likely to do anything stupid.”

Steph had to take a moment to process the sheer improbability of that statement. She, Stephanie Batgirl ‘Shoot Me, If I Bleed I’m Not the Robot’ Brown, and him, Damian Robin ‘Killing My Brothers Will Make My Dad Love Me’ Wayne, were the reliable ones in this scenario.

Once her brain wrapped around it, she let out a slightly nervous laugh and said, before she could think it through, “Damn, are things really that bad?”

Babs hesitated, and even with zero visual or audio Steph was able to sense it was the exact same hesitation Bruce used when deciding whether or not she was on a need-to-know basis.

Steph decided to nip that in the bud. “If you don’t tell me, I’m going to assume a giant meteor is on a collision course with Earth, and I’ll run around the city screaming it from the rooftops and freaking out where people can record me and upload it online and ruin the Batfamily’s reputation forever.”

Babs sighed, slightly exasperated but mostly just tired. “Jason was found guilty.”

Oh. Well, that’d explain it. Also,  _ fuck. _

“Aren’t trials supposed to take longer?” Steph asked, like if she found logical inconsistencies the universe would take notice and right itself. “It definitely does with the people we try and put away, anyway.”

“Believe it or not, the Shi’ar justice system is even more corrupt than Gotham’s. The Lantern Corps higher-ups decided that one life wasn’t worth going to war, so they gave up and did the bare minimum in the trial.”

On the one hand, Steph could understand why the space police might not be eager to go up against an empire that seemed to consider committing war crimes a national sport for the sake of one dude that was (indirectly) responsible for some pretty horrible shit. On the other hand, fuck the police.

“Next time I see a Lantern, it’s fucking  _ on, _ ” Steph growled, putting her laptop to sleep and getting up from her chair.

“I don’t think any of the Lanterns you’d meet are very happy about it, either,” said Babs.

Steph stretched her free arm over her head. “How’s everyone holding up?”

Barbara sighed, exasperation gone, leaving only more exhaustion behind. “How do you think?”

Steph winced as she switched the phone to the other hand so she could stretch that arm, too. “Yeah, dumb question. Have you told Cass yet?

“We can tell her once…” Babs paused and took a deep breath. “Once we know the outcome, one way or another.”

Steph frowned and glared at the wall, which was as close as she could get to doing so to Babs. “Or you could not be a clone of B and tell her now.”

Babs hesitated again.

“I don’t know about you, but I’d prefer to get worked up over nothing than to get slapped in the face all at once with the worst,” said Steph.

“All right, I’ll tell her,” said Babs. “You should report to the Batcave at five. I haven’t been keeping a close eye on any current cases, and I doubt anyone else has, either, so you should brush up on them before you leave.”

Reading reports wasn’t exactly Steph’s favorite thing, but it was leagues better than this stupid essay. “Okey dokey, see you there. Wait, are you there? Because if not, see you later. Bye.”

She hung up before she said anything else stupid and checked the time. 3:48. Plenty of time. Technically enough time for her to get some more work done on the essay, but also no, it wasn’t, she totally absolutely had to rigorously stretch and warm up before sitting in her car long enough to undo it all and require her to do it all over again in the Batcave. That sounded like a fantastic plan right now.

One warm-up later, she hopped in her car and drove over to Wayne Manor. The drive had gotten a lot less stressful ever since Bruce made a spare, slightly less fancy costume for her to keep at home for emergencies so that she could keep the main one in the cave and not worry about getting pulled over for forgetting to use her turn signal and having the cops go through her bag and find all the evidence of her secret identity they needed. Now if she got pulled over, the worst that would happen was getting a ticket she could probably con Bruce into paying for. It counted as travel expenses, right?

Luckily, she was able to make it to the manor without running anyone over. She pulled into the garage and took a moment to steel herself. It was  _ not  _ going to be pretty in there, and as much as she’d like to get in and get out as fast as possible she’d probably end up feeling bad for everyone and trying to make them feel better. That was just the curse of basic human decency, she supposed. If only she could be one of the countless people who didn’t have that.

All right, moping time over, time to get to work.

Alfred was there to welcome her as she walked into the manor proper. He looked as composed as always, but thanks to her Bat training she was able to notice that his tie was slightly crooked, so the entire world really was on the cusp of ending.

“Good afternoon, Miss Brown,” he said, prim as usual. “Master Damian is currently in his room. If you fetch him, I shall inform the others of your arrival.”

Steph knew that was Polite British Butler-speak for ‘I’ll make sure nobody’s in a state that will give Damian even more childhood trauma than he already has’. Though, at this point, Steph felt like that was a lost cause.

Still, she nodded and went to Damian’s room, making sure to take long enough for Alfred to drag anybody passed out at the Batcomputer over to one of the beds in the medbay, send anyone currently crying to the showers, and generally hide all evidence of things being out of the ordinary. Well, out of the ordinary for the Batcave, anyway.

Finally, she reached the door and knocked on it in that knocking pattern she always saw on TV but never got around to learning the name of. “Yo, Dames, ready to go beat up people?”

The door did little to muffle the whine of, “I told you not to call me that!”

“Yeah, and I told you not to call me Fatgirl, and that didn’t stop you.”

The door opened, revealing two cute but grumpy little faces glaring up at her, one being Damian’s and the other being Alfred the Cat’s. “In case you have not noticed, which would be entirely in-character for you, I have not called you that in quite some time.”

“Yeah, but we both know it wasn’t because I told you to stop.”

Damian’s pout deepened, an action and expression belied by the way he hugged Alfred the Cat closer to his chest. “Can we cease with the needless chatter and prepare for patrol?” he growled.

“Oh, don’t worry, I can do both at the same time,” Steph said with a smirk. She turned and walked toward Bruce’s office, trusting Damian to follow after her.

Sure enough, she heard the soft pitter-pat of tiny angry ninja feet. “That is not a skill to be proud of, Brown.”

Steph shrugged. “Hey, you can be proud of any skill if you get good enough at it.”

Damian scoffed. “I don’t know why I even bother trying to talk to you.”

“Because you’re always absolutely certain that  _ this  _ is the time you’ll come out on top.”

“Excuse me? Surely you are not so stupid as to think you’ve been the victor in any of our interactions.”

“Never underestimate anyone’s stupidity, kiddo. The capacity for human dumbness is limitless.”

“I am not a child! Stop referring to me as one!”

“You’re under eighteen, so by legal definition yes, you are a child. You’re barely even pushing tweenagehood.”

Then Steph had to spend the rest of the walk explaining what a tweenager was, then repeating that she did not know who came up with that term or why, then giving up and just listening to Damian rant about how stupid the word was.

Finally, they reached the office, and Damian had to put Alfred the Cat down. He wasn’t allowed down in the Batcave in case he decided one of the various pointy things lying around would make a great toy to throw himself at.

“Keep guard over our home,” Damian solemnly ordered the cat. “Ensure no vermin desecrate our halls.”

Alfred the Cat gave no sign of acknowledgement, eyes locked on an empty space on the bookshelf just big enough for him to sit in and feel tall. His tail twitched, and Steph assumed he was focusing all his tiny cat brain’s power on getting the right trajectory to jump into it.

Damian was either a lot better or a lot worse at reading cat behavior, because he nodded and said, “Excellent. Keep up the good work.” With that, he turned on his heel, opened the entrance to the Batcave, and walked in.

Stephanie hurried to get ahead of him, just in case Alfred had failed and everyone was having scarring mental breakdowns after all, and somebody needed to protect the child’s poor, innocent eyes. 

Thankfully, there wasn’t anything to worry about. Well, not any more than usual. Bruce was sat at the Batcomputer, with Tim, Babs, and Dick all clustered around him so close their cheeks were probably pressed together. Alfred was cleaning one of the exercise machines Steph couldn’t remember the proper name of, back turned to the others in that special way he had that made it clear he had eyes on the back of his head and would know if anyone did anything he wouldn’t approve of. Nothing too out of the ordinary, really.

Except none of the Bats even seemed to notice their arrival, and it wasn’t like they were trying to be quiet. If Damian were still in his fratricidal phase, he could’ve easily killed Tim without him noticing. Paranoia was second nature to a Bat, second only to blinding concern for their loved ones.

None of them were bothering with keeping their voices down, so she distinctly heard Tim say, “It’s the only time we’ll know exactly where he is.”

She also heard Babs argue back, and saw her point at something on the screen. “Every source I could find says that he’s being kept here. If some of those freedom fighters get arrested and put in there, they can stage a break-out from the inside while Starfire and Arsenal attack from the outside.”

“We don’t know how long he’ll still be there,” said Dick. “They might transfer him closer to the exe… They might transfer him as soon as possible, and then we’re back to square one.”

“Exactly,” said Tim. “And these are alien sources we’re dealing with, literally. We don’t know how reliable they are. We know where the execution-" The others flinched. "-will take place, and when, and we know they’re allowing citizens to watch in-person. We get those freedom fighters in the crowd, have them distract and disable as much security as they can, Starfire swoops in to get Jason out while Arsenal covers them.”

“It’s too risky,” Bruce growled. “We’d need to secure the locals’ cooperation, get Starfire’s ship past the planetary defenses, and have them all act in a very narrow timeframe. If we move before Jason is brought out, they’ll just send him back and withdraw for another day with more defenses. If we move too late…”

They all lapsed into silence, and Steph remembered oh, right, she had stuff to do.

“Come on, Robin,” she murmured to Damian. “Go get ready. I’ll meet you on the training mat for some warm-ups.”

He glared at her, but for once he seemed to accept her status as his superior officer without argument and went to the changing area.

Satisfied, she turned back around and found all four of those at the computer staring at her, clearly surprised by her presence. She waved at them and said, “Hey, guys. Any tips for patrol?”

Dick frowned. “You guys are going on patrol?”

“Yeah, Babs told me to take the brat out,” said Steph, shooting Babs a quizzical look.

Babs sighed. “Right, sorry, I forgot to mention it. Somebody needs to go out, and they’re the best suited for it right now.”

Dick stepped back with an unconvinced look on his face. “Somebody should go with them. I’ll be fine out there.”

Babs remained resolute and said, “No, you will not. The second you see one of them in danger, you’ll lose your head and become a liability.”

Dick opened and closed his mouth a couple times, clearly trying to come up with an argument. He couldn’t, because everyone knew his overprotective big brother instincts were going haywire and latching onto every younger sibling figure in sight with zero regard for his own safety. If he saw someone pointing a gun at Steph or Damian, he’d throw himself in front of them as a shield instead of tackling them out of the way so that they both might get out unscathed.

“I know you still see us all as toddlers, Big Bird,” said Steph. “But I’m eighteen. Legal adult. The same age you were when you struck out on your own and were totally capable of watching your own back in a city even worse than Gotham. I think I can handle things for… Wait, how long am I going to have to handle things for?” It was a more polite way of asking ‘When’s Jason’s execution scheduled?’

“If…” Babs paused, probably while she formulated a polite way of answering that wouldn’t set anyone off. “If everything goes well, just for today. If it doesn’t…”

“It  _ will  _ go well,” Bruce growled, apparently completely forgetting how just a minute ago he’d been talking about ‘too risky’ and ‘if we’re too late’. Stephanie would really like to know what it was like in his head if she didn’t think it would scar her for life.

Her desire to just leave them to it and not get involved was great, but her desire to help people was greater. “Anything I can do to make sure it goes well?” she asked.

“Just take care of things out there so we can focus on things in here,” said Babs.

“Yes, ma’am,” Steph said with a salute, and went to the changing area, trying very hard to only think about patrol and failing miserably.

* * *

Jason almost wished the antidote hadn’t worked so well. There was a certain relief in a lack of lucidity. If you couldn’t think straight, you couldn’t think about how screwed you were, or get bored. He was dealing with a big, heaping helping of both right now.

No lights. No fellow prisoners talking in their cells or tapping codes. No attempts at providing him enrichment. Not even any guards coming by to beat him up. Just a dark cell, an array of non-functioning weapons and tools, and the occasional mechanical whirr of a robot bringing him more slop to eat.

Honestly, Jason would have preferred imprisonment more along the lines of Roy’s stint with the guys in Qurac. Not to brag, but he’d gotten pretty fucking good at dealing with pain. He’d never gotten good at being alone with his thoughts. If anything, he’d gotten significantly worse as time went on and the pile of things he never wanted to think about again towered higher and higher.

_ Do  _ not  _ do anything stupid. _

That was relatively safe to think about, even if every time he did so Hal’s voice sounded more and more like Bruce’s. It was pretty good advice, in general, and very good advice for him, and  _ excellent  _ advice for him in this situation. The only ideas he had to to escape or at least get  _ some  _ sort of reaction out of whoever was watching him were, indeed, very stupid.

_ You don’t need to escape,  _ he told himself.  _ They’ll come for you. Hal will tell everyone about the translator, and somebody’s bound to know a way to disable it. The Shi’ar will probably make your execution nice and public, which means they need to broadcast the time and location. If the Bats or the League or whoever can’t get you out of here, they’ll get you out there. It’d be just like them to wait for the most dramatic moment. You’ll be okay. It’ll be okay. You just need to not die until then. _

That shouldn’t be hard, right? Just keep eating, drinking water, use the toilet, get sleep, and exercise a little so that his muscles didn’t atrophy or anything. You couldn’t  _ actually  _ die of boredom. You died of the things you did to stop being bored.

_ I miss the Phoenix. _

The thought came unbidden and unwanted, but it came nonetheless. If he still had the Phoenix Force, he could talk to it to fill the empty space, or vicariously experience a more interesting life through the thoughts of whoever was nearby, or, hell, just tear his way out of here and fly back home.

But he didn't. The Phoenix was gone. It had chosen Kyle. All Jason had left of it was an aching void in his head where power used to be. And everyone was better off that way.

He felt that stirring at the edge of his mind again, like he had his feet dipped in the ocean and he was feeling the ripples of a great kraken awakening hundreds of miles away. He still wasn't sure if he was imagining it. He definitely wasn't sure he had the will to turn the Phoenix away if it tried to act.

He tried not to think about it. He tried not to think at all. He failed.

He fell into a routine. Sleep, wake up in a cold sweat with a hoarse throat from screaming or crying, exercise the memories away until food arrived or his muscles gave up, lay still and try to focus on the pain in his muscles instead of the pain in his heart (or focus on the pain literally in his heart, because electrocution was still a bitch), drift off to sleep, rinse and repeat with the occasional bathroom or water break.

He didn’t keep track of the time. No point when he had no idea when this would all be over. It’d just make him realize ‘Holy shit, I’ve been here x amount of time already, how much longer is it gonna take?’ Jason much preferred a featureless blur of memories that seemed both too long and too short, thank you very much.

As such, he hadn’t the slightest inkling how long it was until he smelled knockout gas. It was honestly kind of a relief. It meant  _ something  _ happening, or… or it meant this was all over, and the thought didn’t scare Jason as much as it should.

He woke up lying on his side on something hard, hands restrained behind his back by handcuffs he didn’t recognize the shape of, tight bands around his ankles, and the sound of somebody breathing besides himself.

That was all he could figure out while pretending to be asleep, and last time he kept pretending he got another shock for his troubles, so he opened his eyes.

He was in another small room, though not quite as dark this time, and there was an actual person standing near the door, one with lots of armor and a very big gun. A guard. Not just a robotic one, either, judging by the breathing. Jason glanced down at his feet and saw that his legs were chained together, just barely loose enough for him to shuffle around without falling over. Why would they want him able to walk around? If they wanted to move him somewhere, they weren’t shy about knocking him out, dragging him where they wanted, and making sure he could barely move a muscle once he woke up.

They’d never had a guard inside his cell, either. And this was a different cell, without even a toilet. Like nobody was expected to stay there very long.

His heart had no right to sink so far down. He’d taken care not to let his hopes get too high. He’d been lucky to even get a trial in the first place. The Shi’ar were the ones making the rules here, they could change them as they saw fit to get what they wanted. Still, they could’ve at least told him he was guilty before bringing him to the chopping block. Or if he was going to a chopping block, or a noose, or a firing squad, or - or -

Fuck. He couldn’t let himself lose it here. Not in front of someone. He’d like to have  _ some  _ dignity here, thank you very much.

He squirmed his way into an upright position and shot the guard a smirk. “‘Morning, or whatever time of day it is. Do you guys even have mornings? Sorry I didn’t read up on your planetary rotation and whatever. Wasn’t exactly expecting to get abducted by aliens, y’know?”

The guard turned their helmet in his direction, but other than that gaze no acknowledgement of his existence, much less his words.

Jason sighed and let his head fall back against the wall. Yeah, it had probably been too much to hope for conversation with the person ordered to oversee his death. But when he was thinking about what to say, he wasn’t thinking about how sore his arms were, or how it felt like his extremities were having circulation problems, or about his impending death and how the only way out of it was through the grace and competence of others, which was never reliable enough.

So, he kept talking. His throat felt rough, he really needed some water, and occasionally he broke out into coughing fits, but he kept talking. Mostly to himself. If he’d transcribed it and tried handing it in to his middle school English teacher as a monologue, he would’ve tanked his grade. It was a disjointed ramble that meandered between bad jokes, asking questions about the Shi’ar, sharing his thoughts on books he’d read recently, and just about every other topic that crossed his mind. Anything to fill the silence and emptiness.

“I guess this is how Nightwing feels all the time,” he said with a slightly hysterical chuckle.

The guard still showed no reaction. He wondered if this was normal behavior for somebody on death row. He’d never actually been around for that. It was always sending them to prison or killing them then and there. He’d never seen first-hand how people reacted when they were trapped in a cell with only their own mortality for company.

“Well, I certainly know now,” he said, not even sure anymore if he’d said the rest of his thoughts out loud or if it was just a non-sequitur. Or maybe his throat was completely shot and he was just mouthing words and imagining his voice coming out.

Finally, he heard something. Footsteps approaching. “Looks like our time’s up,” said Jason to the guard. “I’ll treasure the memories of our time together for the rest of my life.”

Surely, the guard’s lack of response must have been them being choked up by emotion and needing time to gather their thoughts. In a tragedy worthy of Homer, the cell door was opened and their emotional farewell was interrupted before they found their words.

Someone dressed identically to the guard walked into the room and said, “It’s time. Get up, follow us, and don’t bother fighting back.”

Jason didn’t get up. “Time for what, exactly?” he asked. “Because if you don’t tell me, I’m going to assume you mean it’s time for me to just walk out of here because you’ve all come to your senses.”

The newcomer just pointed their gun at him and pressed a button that released the high-pitch whine of something warming up, along with the crackle of electricity. “We require compliance, not consciousness.”

As much as the very notion of compliance felt like a cheese grater running against his soul, his odds of getting out were a lot higher if he was awake, so with a glare he rose to his feet and, through sheer force of will, only swayed slightly as he walked to the door. The newcomer walked ahead of him into the hallway, while his dear monologue target brought up the rear. Two other guards had been standing outside the door, and fell into step on either side of him. He tried to feel flattered that they considered him enough of a threat to require four guards, rather than terrified that they’d left him zero openings he could take advantage of while restrained.

He should keep talking, right? Try and fill up the hole in his chest splintering painfully outwards? His throat didn’t think so, refusing to release anything he tried to say. All he could hear were footsteps, his heartbeat pounding in his ears, and his breath, shakier than he’d prefer. Everything seemed too loud, his footfalls too heavy and sending vibrations all the way up to his skull, each seam and flaw in the walls they passed in the hallway too distinct and eye-catching.

_ These could be your last moments,  _ his brain reminded him.  _ We need to get the most out of them. _

He took as deep a breath as he dared, when his guards might take the slightest unexpected noise or movement as an invitation to knock him out or kill him right there. These would  _ not  _ be his last moments. Somebody would come for him. Bruce had to know about all this by now, and he’d come up with a plan to fix it.

_ Just like he came up with a plan in Ethiopia? _

It would be fine. If nobody else was coming for him, he’d figure something out. He always…

_ The taste of blood. The sting of cold metal on his skin. A rough floor beneath his cheek. The sound of that laughter, always that fucking laughter… _

He usually figured something out. It would be fine. And if it wasn’t, it would be over, and hopefully there was still a cliff with a great view waiting for him.

They reached a set of doors. Guard #2 stepped away for a couple seconds to enter a code into a keypad. Jason was sorely tempted to take advantage of it, but, again, being unconscious would probably make everyone’s plans a lot harder. Unless their plan worked under the assumption that he’d make a fuss and delay things. Oh, fuck, that was totally in-character for him, what if they actually expected that? What if -

Guard #2 stepped back in position, rendering the question moot. Nothing happened, and for a few seconds Jason hoped something had gone wrong and the guard would need to step away to try again so Jason could try and do something, but they didn’t. They all just stood there, ramrod straight and giving no indication that things weren’t going to plan. If Jason’s throat had been too tight for any words to squeeze through before, now it was getting clamped in a vice that barely let air through.

Finally, the door opened, and Jason was thoroughly distracted by the first proper light he’d seen in fuck knows how long. It felt like the visual equivalent of getting hit by a truck. His eyes squeezed shut of their own accord, and even through his eyelids it was still brighter than what he’d gotten used to. It was also a lot louder. That door must have been hella soundproof to block it all out. It sounded like the crowd at a game played between long-time rival teams that would determine who moved onto the next bracket of the championships - both elated and furious, and deafening in equal measure.

He might have thought he was back in the White Hot Room if it weren’t for the fact that he felt very, very cold and very,  _ very  _ alone.


	16. Coming To You Live

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning for somewhat explicit descriptions of gore and death.

Guard #1 nudged Jason from behind. Oh, right, he was supposed to walk. Walk towards… Who the fuck decided the prisoners should have to walk to their own execution? Why couldn’t they just do it while he was knocked out? Or, better yet, do it in private and parade his body around after so he wouldn’t have to experience any of it?

Another nudge, even less gentle. Jason really had to stop thinking, at least about anything other than how he was supposed to get out of this. He walked forward as steadily as he could, squinting his eyes open and willing them to adjust to the light with every fiber of his being. There was only so much he could get from listening, especially with the din of the crowd drowning out just about everything else.

He was able to just barely make out what was in front of him when he reached the stairs leading up to… something. He couldn’t see that far yet. He was just glad he’d seen the stairs themselves and not tripped and made a fool of himself on intergalactic TV. Even with visual, it was tricky. His leg restraints meant he could just barely manage a single step with one foot pretty much pressing into the front of the step, which meant he had to take two foot-steps per stair-step. One of the first things he’d have to do when he escaped was sever that chain. If he was fast enough and calculated the angle right, he might be able to have somebody try to shoot him and flip so that the projectile hit the chain instead. The hands would be a bit tricky, but he should be able to get his hands in front of him, even if the stretch would hurt, and from there he should be able to do the same thing.

He could do this. He just had to be fast enough, and smart enough, and lucky enough.

His vision was getting a little clearer. He seemed to be on some sort of stage, walking towards a nondescript block. Yet another armored, faceless guard stood next to it, although this one was holding a sword. Any lingering doubt about his method of execution was squashed when he caught sight of an empty box sitting in front of the block, in just the right position to catch any falling heads.

As far as ways to die went, it could be a lot worse. That sword looked pretty sharp. Should be able to get the job done in one strike. Should be quick. He might barely even feel it, or at least not feel it for long. Unless those theories he’d seen about severed heads remaining conscious for a while afterward were correct.

_ No, stop it, focus on the mission,  _ he scolded himself.  _ You aren’t getting your head chopped off. Everything will be fine. _

Guard #2 stepped to the side so that Jason could get closer to the block. The others stepped back, too. Before he could even consider doing something with this freedom, out of the corner of his eye he saw the one to his left raise their gun and point it right at him. A glance to the right showed the other had done the same, and presumably the two behind were doing it, too. So, four trained guards with guns pointed at him and one standing right there with a sword that was made for executions, not actual combat. Not insurmountable odds, if he had free use of all limbs and a working array of tools and weapons.

Those odds were a lot worse without any of those. A squinted glance around revealed what he assumed to be several cameras floating around on drones. If they were already recording, the Shi’ar had no reason to keep him alive anymore. Having him riddled with bullets on live TV would serve their purposes just as well as beheading.

He couldn’t get out of this. There were just too many things working against him.

_ Come on, B,  _ he prayed.  _ Use that big brain of yours. Feel free to put your plan into motion any time. Preferably sooner rather than later. _

“Kneel.”

Jason couldn’t tell if it was the executioner or one of the guards that said it. It didn’t really matter, he supposed. He could hear the guns whining again, but at a slightly different pitch and without the electric crackle. No more shocks. Just death.

So, he knelt. The stage felt hard beneath his knees, like the weathered concrete of a Gotham back alley everybody walking past pretended to ignore, or the floor of a warehouse in Ethiopia. At least he’d survived the former. This time around, that wasn’t quite as likely. And this time around, he actually deserved it.

He leaned forward, resting his head on the block. It, shockingly enough, was also hard and cold. For a second he thought that, for some godforsaken reason, it had a vibration setting or something. Then he realized that was just him shaking. Damn it, he was supposed to be holding it together. It was going to be fine. Bruce had a plan. Somebody was coming for him. And if they weren’t he… he…

The part of him that expected rescue was almost expecting them to wait until the headsman had their blade raised and ready to come down on his neck. For once, however, an associate of the Justice League didn’t quite wait until the last moment to swoop in. His current position didn’t give him a very good view, so he wasn’t quite sure what happened. All he knew was that there was the sound of gunfire, screams of fear from the crowd, a flash of green light from the corner of his eye, and the vibration of four heavy bodies crashing down onto the stage.

Even if Jason’s brain couldn’t quite understand it, his body did, and rolled out of the way in time to avoid the executioner’s swing. Before they could have another go, a blast of green fire hit them in the back, sending them to the ground. The explanation arrived in the form of Kori, diving down in front of him with the speed of a falcon and lifting him up under the shoulders just as quickly.

He liked to think the wet, scratchy feeling of tears welling in his eyes was just a reaction to the light, not sheer relief. Relief was also not responsible for the way his legs felt too jelly-like to have supported him without her holding him up. He’d been seconds away from public execution, he had the right to be a little shaken.

“Took you long enough,” he muttered.

“I wish we could have come sooner,” she said, holding something up to his ear. One unpleasant moment of all the bones in his head vibrating later, the voices from the crowd became even more impossible to understand than before. “Are you injured?”

Jason shook his head. “Not enough to stop you from getting me the fuck out of here.”

Kori pulled him close and adjusted her hold on him, one hand supporting his head and neck and the other wrapped around his back to keep him upright. Normally he’d feel uncomfortable having someone he didn’t know super well hugging him, but he was cold and she was warm and getting him away from -

Jason was intimately familiar with the feeling of being shot, both through personal experience and the times he wasn’t quite able to get out of someone’s head in time. The sensation that ripped through his chest now was very similar, but not entirely identical. The Shi’ar probably used laser guns, which he’d never been shot with before. That would make a difference.

He preferred to think about that rather than the way Kori gasped and tensed up around him, or how little time he had before the signals from his pain receptors reached his brain and properly registered what had happened, or how it felt like the shot went straight through his heart, or… or…

The pain registered, snuffing out any further thought like an avalanche snuffing out a candle.

He might have heard Kori call out his name. It was hard to tell, when his entire being was focused on the painful hole in his chest. Even if he were certain she said anything, he didn’t dare reply. Even shallow breaths barely able to quell the burning in his lungs hurt like hell, and he was pretty sure the taste on his tongue was blood. No amount of reassurances was going to counteract opening his mouth and having blood come out.

Not that he had any reassurances to give. He’d been shot. In the heart.  _ Fuck,  _ he’d been shot in the fucking heart. No, no, it was okay, it was all going to be okay, he was going to be okay. They’d… they’d get that doctor robot to stitch him up and he’d be okay. A society capable of creating doctor robots could probably fix up a shot heart, right? They had to. He’d be fine.

He might have felt wind rushing through his hair, and he might have heard Kori’s voice again along with Roy’s. What little awareness he had was already getting fuzzier. They’d better get him to the robot quick, because he wasn’t going to last much… No. It would be fine. He’d be fine. They came for him, it had to be fine, that wasn’t how it was supposed to go. Even if Jason deserved to die, Kori and Roy didn’t deserve to have that on their consciences.

He definitely felt Kori’s arms disappear, replaced by yet another hard, cold bed to lay on. He didn’t have the pride left to stop himself from reaching after her, because he was getting colder by the heartbeat, and his heartbeat seemed to be getting slower, and everything was cold and dark and fading and he was  _ scared. _

Somebody grabbed his hand and squeezed it tightly, like he was drowning and someone was trying to pull him up into a lifeboat. He squeezed back with all his might, which wasn’t much at the moment. He tried to open his eyes (when had he closed them?), but even when he could have sworn he had them open he still couldn’t see anything.

Someone was shouting. Jason couldn’t tell what it was about. At least they seemed to be calming down, or maybe his hearing was just fading, too.

The hand was still holding his, and another brushed his hair away from his face. It was warm, and nice, but it was fading, too. Everything was.

Jason was dying. He was dying far from home, without his family, and for the sole purpose of aiding an empire in quelling the populace. He knew that death was inevitable, and it was usually unfair, but… shouldn’t it be fair? Hadn’t he gone through enough? Hadn’t everyone who cared about him gone through enough?

He instinctively reached for his powers, for the Phoenix. Once again, he grasped at nothing, but this time he could barely feel anything anymore, including pain, and he kept reaching, deeper and deeper inside himself and farther and farther into the distance at the same time.

He was almost there, he could see a light,  _ please,  _ he didn't want to die, not like this, ple

* * *

Roy should have known everything was going too smoothly.

The time and location of Jason's execution was pretty much shouted from the rooftops, and Oracle's sleuthing showed no signs of deception. The Shi'ar freedom fighter cell they contacted were already planning on disrupting things, and were more than happy to help someone snatch the Magistrate's (Roy was pretty sure he remembered the title wrong, but whatever) prize out from under his heavily guarded nose.

The plan itself was fairly simple. Some freedom fighters would infiltrate the crowd, armed to the teeth. Their techies would take out all the defensive measures they could, focusing on anti-aircraft stuff. The stadium didn't have a roof, so Kori could use a cloaking device to get in close with her ship. Then she'd activate the ship's energy shield and dive down to grab Jason. The shield only stopped lasers and stuff, so Roy would be able to sit at the bottom of the ramp (with a harness, because nothing ruined a rescue like a rescuer falling to their death) and shoot plain ol' arrows to his heart's content. Once she was past the shield, Kori could start blasting. Get Jason, get on the ship, get the fuck out and leave the cleanup to the locals.

Roy should have realized the sense of dread in his gut wasn’t just at the thought of leaving allies behind to be captured or killed by an empire that clearly didn’t care about due process. The freedom fighters had already made their decision, and would have gone through with it with or without Roy and Kori’s help. At least this way they had a slightly higher chance of escape.

Everything was going well. None of the agents in the crowd fired a shot too early, no turrets sprang to life to riddle the ship with solid projectiles, and Roy and Kori were able to take the guards surrounding Jason out of commission before they could even scream. Roy’s arrows hit their marks, Kori deactivated Jason’s translator, everything was fine.

Until Roy loosed an arrow at a soldier who either had noticed that none of their compatriot’s shots had done anything, or decided to devote their final moments to duty rather than revenge, and aimed their gun right at Jason before the arrow hit.

There was a solid ten seconds where Roy could believe they didn’t actually pull the trigger. He was too far away from the ground to properly make out anyone’s expressions. As Kori flew up to the ship with Jason in her arms, Roy tried to believe his limpness was due to emotional and physical exhaustion.

Then he saw the blood, and Kori’s face, and Roy couldn’t believe in anything except the cruelty of the universe.

Kori flew straight into the ship. Roy scrambled to follow her, ripping off his harness and hastily slapping a hand on the button to lift the ramp as he went. By the time he got to the medbay, Jason was already lying on a cot and Kori was tossing what seemed to be the mangled remains of his shackles aside.

“Take care of him,” she ordered. “I will get us out of here.”

As she flew out of the room, Roy went over to the robot and willed his fingers to stop shaking as he pressed the buttons to activate it. “Come on, come on,” he muttered to himself as the machine whirred to life.

“Hello, Arsenal,” it said in a voice pleasant enough to make Roy want to scream. “How may I assist you?”

Jason let out a breathless whimper. Roy turned to see him reaching out for… something. He wasn’t sure if even Jason was sure what he wanted. Roy quickly walked over and took his hand, giving it a comforting squeeze. Jason squeezed back (weakly, way too weakly, fuck, the shot had gone right through his heart) and seemed to relax. Or maybe he’d just used up all his strength and gone limp.

Roy turned back to the robot and snarled, “Help him.”

The machine unfurled one of its arms, this one seeming to hold some sort of scanner it used to examine Jason. Roy realized with a jolt that he should really be applying pressure to the wound, and used the hand not holding Jason’s to do so. Frankly, he wasn’t sure which sensation was scarier. Blood seeping between his fingers and the slimy, slippery feel of body parts that nobody was ever supposed to be able to touch, or the way Jason’s grip was slowly but surely getting weaker.

He’d almost forgotten the robot was there until it let out a loud, shrill beep, retracted the arm, and said, still in that infuriatingly pleasant tone, “I cannot.”

It took Roy a couple seconds to be able to breathe again. Once he could, he took in a deep one and practically screamed, “What the fuck do you mean, you can’t?”

“Red Hood’s wounds are fatal. Any attempt at treating him would only waste resources.”

Roy really, really,  _ really  _ wanted to throttle the stupid bucket of bolts, but he had no idea what its equivalent of a throat would be, and even if he did, he didn’t dare let go of Jason’s hand. His eyes were completely unfocused and unseeing, and he hadn’t reacted at all to the shouting, so that hand might be the only thing he was aware of anymore, and Roy wasn’t about to take that away from him.

“Do it anyway,” he ordered the robot.

“You are not authorized to order me to ignore protocol. If you wish to proceed, please have Princess Koriand’r give the security code.”

Roy muttered a few choice curses under his breath before he turned to the still-open door and bellowed as loud as he could, “Kori!”

Jason’s hand twitched, and the stuttering rise and fall of his breath was getting slower and slower.

Roy gave up on the pressure - if the medical robot didn’t think it was worth it, it might well not be - and brushed Jason’s sweaty, tangled hair back from his forehead. He winced at the blood his hand left in its wake, but Jason wasn’t in any state to notice. His eyes were closed now, and if it weren’t for the breath and heartbeat Roy had felt beneath his fingers only moments ago he would have thought he was already…

“Hey,” Roy said, squeezing his hand even tighter. “Come on, Jaybird, stay with us.”

Jason didn’t respond.

“You promised Lian you’d get her Pepsi, remember?” Roy rambled, racking his brain for every last scrap of a reason for Jason to live that he could remember. “She’s looking forward to seeing her again. You’re not going to break your promise to her, right? And I’m betting Dick made you promise not to do anything stupid, right? Giving up now is stupid. You can’t give up. You can’t leave us. Not again. We can’t…”

His fingers fidgeted in Jason’s hand, and one of them found its way onto the pulse point on his wrist. Or, at least, where it should have been, anyway. He couldn’t feel one. Roy dropped his gaze to their hands to make sure it was in the right place, and yes, it was. He lifted his other hand away from Jason’s scalp to properly press his thumb down hard on the spot. He didn’t dare let go of his hand. He didn’t dare let himself notice how Jason’s grip had gone completely limp, and he didn’t dare let himself see that hand fall down to the cot and prove Jason was gone.

Still nothing. He shifted his thumb around, because maybe he’d remembered wrong, he’d never paid as much attention to first aid training as he should have, he had to have just gotten the wrong spot. When that spot was wrong, too, he looked back at Jason’s chest, trying to ignore the blood and only notice the rise and fall of breath. He couldn’t see any. He stared, and stared, and tried every spot on Jason’s wrist, but he couldn’t find anything.

Roy laid his head on Jason’s chest, barely noticing the blood that stained his cheek, feeling and listening for any trace of life. Nothing. There was nothing. Just blood and a lifeless hand.

Should Roy do CPR? That was what you did in this scenario, right? But what good would it do? The problem wasn’t that his heart had stopped. The problem was the giant fucking hole in it. How was Roy supposed to fix this? He had to, he  _ had  _ to fix this, he couldn’t let Jason die, but he didn’t know what to do.

Kori came flying into the room, mouth open to speak. She froze when she saw Jason, or maybe it was the sight of Roy that did it. He probably looked deserving of people freezing at the sight of him. He knew he should probably step back, tell her what happened, let the robot do its work, but he… he just couldn’t. He couldn’t lift his head and stop listening for a heartbeat, because that meant accepting this, and he couldn’t. He wouldn’t.

Jason wasn’t dead. He hadn’t died on their watch, after all the promises and reassurances they made. If Roy just kept listening, he’d find the heartbeat, and Kori could get her doctor robot to do something, and everything would be fine.

He didn’t realize he’d started crying until Kori laid a hand on his shoulder. “Roy, we should-”

An alarm blared through the ship. Kori looked between the door and Jason a few times, clearly torn between which one was the bigger problem. Roy knew that Jason wasn’t a problem, he was going to be fine, so he raised his head and asked, “What does that alarm mean?”

“Incoming unknown energy signature,” said Kori, eyes now fixed on Jason. “Is he-”

“Your stupid robot won’t fix him,” said Roy. “You use the administrator password or whatever, I’ll go check it out.”

He was halfway down the hallway before he remembered he had no idea how the ship worked, but that wouldn’t stop him. He’d figure it out. Somebody had to look into this, and somebody had to take care of Jason, and Roy couldn’t help him. Kori would, though. It would be fine. Jason would be fine.

A different alarm blared, the pitch blending in with the first like oil blending with water. The sound set Roy’s teeth on edge. As if sensing his discomfort, both alarms came to an abrupt stop. Roy had seen way too much shit to take it as a good sign.

Sure enough, a bright white light blinded his vision, the sound of static deafened him, and a wave of heat hotter than anything he’d felt before washed over him. It was so hot that it took until it had receded, along with the light and static, for him to be able to sense the wall behind him, the floor beneath him, and the pain across what felt like the entire back of his body. Had an explosion thrown him back? That would explain the sensations, but as he blinked the stars out of his eyes he could see no trace of damage on the ship or on himself.

He got to his feet, ignoring the pain, and sprinted back to the medbay. He pulled out his bow and nocked an arrow as he went. Sure, the chances of whatever had broken through their defenses and tossed him to the side like a paper bag probably wasn’t going to be harmed by an arrow, but there was still a possibility, and if whatever it was was going near Jason, Roy was going to take that chance.

When he arrived, he saw a bright white light and immediately loosed his arrow at it. He only fully took in the scene before him a second afterward. The bright white light was coming from the cot Jason had been lying on, and it was very much Jason-shaped. He didn’t reach the conclusion that he’d just shot an arrow at Jason until the arrow had already vanished, leaving behind nothing but the smell of molten metal.

He looked over at Kori, who seemed just as bewildered as he was. He took a step closer to the cot, and decided not to take any more, because even from over here the heat was almost unbearable. It was a miracle the cot wasn’t melting. Just like it had been a miracle he wasn’t burned to a crisp when it passed him in the hall.

Then he remembered all the accounts describing the Phoenix Force’s power, and it occurred to him that maybe, just maybe, another miracle was happening.

The light faded, changing to natural fiery oranges and yellows as it went, revealing Jason’s form still lying there. There was no arrow buried in his side, thank God. Once the heat was at non-searing levels, Roy cautiously approached, gripping his bow and ready to use it as a melee weapon if needed. Flames were still dancing across Jason’s body, so it might have been a trick of the light, but he thought that he could see unmarred skin beneath the hole in his shirt rather than the visceral mess that had been there only a minute ago.

Kori had a much higher tolerance for heat, so while Roy was still held at bay a few feet away she was able to walk right up and press her fingers against Jason's neck.

"It brought him back," she said, looking up at Roy with equal parts joy and dread.

What was there to be dreading? Jason was alive. They hadn't failed. What was she -

Then it hit him. Jason hadn't come back. He'd been  _ brought  _ back, and all the evidence pointed at one being that could be responsible.

"Maybe it just brought him back and left him again?" Roy looked back down at the flames still flickering. "Uh… I mean, will leave again?"

"Maybe," Kori murmured, looking back down at Jason with a complicated expression.

Things had cooled off enough for Roy to finally get close enough to grab hold of Jason's wrist and squeeze it tightly. It was warm, now, and his pulse thrummed strong.

Luckily, Roy was able to grab a nearby chair and pull it over before his legs collapsed under him. Jason was alive. He’d died, right in front of Roy, right when they were supposed to have saved him. He  _ should  _ be dead, they  _ should  _ have failed, they  _ should  _ have had to go back to Dick and the others with nothing but a corpse and apologies. The only reason they didn’t have to do that was because of the Phoenix Force, which was supposed to not have anything to do with Jason anymore for the good of the entire multiverse.

He adjusted his grip so he was holding Jason’s (warm,  _ alive _ ) hand and tried to enjoy the sensation without thinking about the reasons behind it.


	17. Perchance to Dream

Bruce stared at the back of the aspirin bottle, debating whether it was worth the risk to take another pill. He was already over the recommended amount. If he overdosed, he might become nothing more than a liability to the mission. On the other hand, his headache might also make him into a useless liability.

 _You would not be in this situation if you had gotten enough sleep instead of relying on caffeine to keep you awake,_ said an Alfred-shaped voice in his head.

Bruce rubbed at his eyes (futile as it was through his cowl's lenses) and sighed. _I’ll go to sleep soon,_ he promised. _Once Jason is back._

He looked back at the computer screen to check the time. Jason’s execution was scheduled for ten minutes ago. Bruce should be there, getting him to safety, or at least helping coordinate. But he was in no state to do it right now, physically or emotionally, and the rest of the Justice League knew it. Nobody had outright stated he was banned from being involved or watching the broadcast, but both Clark and Diana had gently suggested he stay out of it, J’onn had given him a heaping digital pile of files to look through in an isolated room on the Watchtower, and every time his worse judgement prevailed and he tried to access any Shi’ar broadcasts he encountered an error message.

He knew that the mission was in capable hands. He knew that he was too exhausted and emotionally compromised to be trusted. He knew that these files were also important and needed to be done.

As seemed to happen far too often as of late, especially when Jason was involved, his roiling, raging emotions refused to be quelled by logic.

With a growl of frustration, he turned the computer off and got to his feet, stalking towards the door. He wasn’t entirely sure where he was going, but just getting up and moving felt much better than sitting there without any outlet except clenching the armrests of the chair so hard they threatened to crumble beneath his fingers.

He walked down the halls, muscle memory leading him toward the main command room. He knew it was a bad idea. His muscles didn’t care, and he didn’t care enough to override them.

A gust of wind blew past him, which then resolved itself into a worried-looking Clark. “You’re supposed to be working on those files,” he said sternly.

“I needed a break,” Bruce growled, not pausing in his stride.

Obviously, Clark had no issue keeping up with him. “I agree, but I somehow doubt you actually plan on taking one.”

Bruce just glared at him and kept walking.

He blinked, and suddenly Clark was in front of him, stance wide, arms folded across his chest, and expression determined. Sometimes Bruce envied how effortlessly he could be so imposing.

Despite his resolute body language, Clark’s voice was soft as he said, “We’re handling it, Bruce. You don’t need to-”

“Codenames, Superman,” Bruce interrupted instinctively.

“We’re handling it, Batman,” Clark amended. “Don’t you trust us?”

Bruce did. He’d trust just about anyone in the League with his life, and usually he would trust them with the lives of his family. But this wasn’t just family. This was Jason, who they had already failed to save far too many times.

“Not with this,” he growled. “The League’s track record with Red Hood is far from ideal.”

Clark’s poker face had gotten much better over the years, but it was still obvious (to Bruce, at least) that the words struck deep. He’d feel guilty about it later. At that moment, he attempted to take advantage of the distraction to make his way past.

He failed. Clark grabbed him by the arm and said, “With all due respect, neither is yours.”

Bruce had no right to feel offended. He’d struck the first blow. Clark just deflected it back. It was nobody’s fault that it struck even deeper except his own. His voice felt thick and rough, but not in the usual way of affecting his Batman voice, as he said, “Which is why I can’t be too late again.”

“We aren’t,” Clark promised. “Starfire and Arsenal are in position, along with the local agents. If anything, we’re running early. The… proceedings were a couple minutes late to start. Technical and logistical difficulties are universal, it seems.”

Bruce’s brain went into overdrive, as much as it could with the headache and possible beginnings of aspirin overdose. “What difficulties? Are you sure we’re seeing it live? What if they used those minutes to change things? When did you last hear from Starfire and Arsenal? How do you-”

Clark held up a hand in an attempt to pacify him. “We’re still in contact with them as we speak, and they’ve confirmed it’s live. We can handle it.” His eyes unfocused, and his head tilted in that way it did whenever he was trying to focus on one particular distant sound amongst millions. “Everything’s going according to plan so far. Just trust us, all right?”

“Are you listening to them right now?” Bruce asked.

Clark hesitated for a moment before cautiously saying, “Yes. You should go back to work.”

Bruce focused with all of his might on Clark, alert for any of his tells. “How far along has it gotten?”

Clark hesitated again, and every tell he let slip screamed, _Too far for comfort._ Out loud, he simply said, “Everything’s on schedule. Stop worrying about it. Worrying just means you suffer twice.”

Bruce recognized the quote, and was about to inform Clark of the fact when he remembered that he’d seen that movie with Jason. It was one of many they’d all watched as a family to catch him up to speed on everything he’d missed. He’d liked the first one, and been very disappointed by the sequel. And that wasn’t even getting started on his reaction to the script for the play. Bruce had tried to convince him that it was probably better in person. He’d actually planned on getting tickets for them to see it, once things settled down.

Except things never settled down, and he was going to be lucky to see Jason again at all.

Clark opened his mouth, no doubt to give more platitudes from other movies he’d seen, only for it to snap closed again as he went tense and pale. Before Bruce could even try to interrogate him, he vanished in another gust of wind.

Bruce hurried to the command center, mind racing. What had gone wrong? Had Arsenal and Starfire moved too late? Had they moved too early? Had Jason been snatched back out of their reach? Had they lost contact? Had the information on the time and place been false after all? Was Jason already dead?

The door was locked, of course. He could hear voices on the other side - loud, panicked, _scared_ voices - but not the actual words they were saying. There were very few things Bruce hated more than only having part of the information he needed. That information being related to the fate of someone he loved was one of them.

He knocked on the door hard enough to ensure he was heard. Things quieted down slightly, and he thought he heard some footsteps walking towards the door. That hope was quickly dashed by J’onn’s voice saying in his head, _Please return to your work, Batman._

In that moment, Bruce wished J’onn wasn’t killed enough to prevent any of his thoughts or feelings from bleeding through their telepathic link. Bruce didn’t bother even attempting to do the same as he thought as clearly as he could, _I will return to my work when I know Jason is safe._

J’onn went silent, and perhaps that was the only reason why the voices from the room seemed to grow even louder. Or perhaps things were only going more wrong, and they could not, in fact, handle it. Bruce ran a hand over his utility belt, trying to remember which of the backdoors in the Watchtower’s security had already been remedied. It was difficult to do with his headache seeming to block his progress at every turn (or perhaps J’onn had something to do with it).

Suddenly, abruptly, and jarringly, things went almost completely quiet. He could only hear two voices, now, neither of them clearly enough to make out any words. Bruce leaned against the door and waited a moment until his head didn’t feel quite so light. Once he was certain he could stand upright, he pulled a device from his belt (he really needed to come up with a proper name for it before Dick’s nickname of ‘Bat-cup-on-door’) and placed it against the door, resting his ear against the other end.

It was Black Canary’s voice that said, “Are you certain it was the Phoenix Force?”

Bruce shoved all the emotions that name summoned as far down as he could so that he could listen carefully and identify the answering, static voice as Starfire’s. “No. But given its appearance, the amount of white energy on the scanners, and the fact that it resurrected Jason, I believe it is the most likely candidate.”

The emotions came surging back up, intense enough to drown out whatever was said next. The Phoenix Force had resurrected Jason. Possibly. _Possibly._ They didn’t know it for certain. Bruce shouldn’t think about it until it was certain. But what else could it be? And regardless of whatever had done it, Jason had required resurrecting. He’d died. Arsenal and Starfire had failed. The Justice League had failed. _Bruce_ had failed.

The door slid open. The action dislodged the device, sending it to the floor in a clatter that rang far too loudly in Bruce’s ears. He might have fallen to the floor, too, if somebody hadn’t grabbed him by the arms in a strong yet gentle hold and kept him upright. He raised his head and tried to blink the blurriness out of his vision.

He still hadn’t managed to identify who was holding him until the door shut again and Diana said, “Breathe, Bruce. Try and copy me, all right?”

Bruce did so, even if his throat did its best to stop enough air going through it and his lungs strained to hyperventilate. In, hold, out, wait. In, hold, out, wait. In, hold, out, wait.

Eventually, Bruce felt he had the breath to spare on speaking and asked, “What happened?”

Diana only considered continuing to keep him in the dark for a moment. “We are not certain. The most important thing is that Jason is alive. Keep that in mind, and do not allow yourself to dwell on the what-ifs. It is done. We cannot change the past, only the future.”

Bruce took another deep breath. “I know. But those who do not know history repeat its mistakes. Tell me what happened.”

“One of the guards was able to shoot Red Hood before he could be extracted. Arsenal and Starfire were able to get him out and tried to get him medical treatment, but there wasn’t anything they could do. Then, the ship’s scanner picked up a massive amount of white energy, which broke through the hull, repaired the damage it left behind, and resurrected Hood. Our current hypothesis is that it was the Phoenix Force.”

Bruce took in a few more careful, controlled breaths. It was far from the worst-case scenarios that had been circling around in his head for the last minute or so. It did not sound too traumatic, as deaths went. Certainly less so than Jason’s first. But it was still a death, and even if Bruce couldn’t remember much from his own death, he certainly remembered the terror that had gripped him during the times he’d come within a hair’s breadth of it.

He made a mental note to arrange a discreet therapy appointment for him, outlaw or not.

With the fear and concern mostly quelled, the anger set in. “Why didn’t they extract him in time?” Bruce growled.

As expected, Diana showed no sign of feeling threatened, but, luckily, she did not seem offended, either. “We do not have all the details. The debriefing is still in progress, and, as you can imagine, Starfire is still rather emotional. I imagine it was simply a matter of bad luck or unforeseen circumstance.”

Bruce took another breath. He was the one always telling people not to let emotion cloud their judgement, even when their loved ones were in danger, yet right now he was grappling with the urge to break through the door and hold everyone in the room hostage until he got all the answers he wanted. Diana was right. Even the best laid plans never quite matched up with the reality of the mission. Things went wrong, people had to improvise, they made mistakes, and sometimes they just got unlucky.

She was also right that the most important thing was that Jason was alive. Bruce should focus on that. There was plenty to focus on, and much of it not particularly pleasant. “Do we know if the Phoenix Force is possessing him again?” he asked.

“No, we do not know,” said Diana. “He is still unconscious. They are en route back to the Watchtower, and once they arrive Martian Manhunter will give him a thorough telepathic scan.”

Bruce closed his eyes. His headache had officially reached unbearability. It almost felt as if he had a second heart inside his head, beating hard enough to make his skull shake. Of all the times for his greatest weapon - his mind - to malfunction…

“Get some rest,” said Diana, just softly enough to not be an order. “You need it. We can handle things until they return, and when they do, I shall wake you.”

“You mean like you handled saving Jason?” The words slipped out before Bruce could think them through, and he couldn’t find it in himself to think them through once they were out, either.

Diana was quiet for a moment, and Bruce couldn’t focus enough to read her expression. “You are tired and emotional,” she said eventually. “You need to rest. Jason will need you when he wakes up, and you cannot be what he needs in your current state.”

The anger fled. Now all Bruce could feel was exhaustion and pain, with too much of the latter, both physically and mentally, to be able to do much about the former. “You’ll have to sedate me,” he murmured, wondering if he was swaying or if his vision was off-kilter. After he’d said it, he realized it could be construed as a threat of sorts.

Thankfully, Diana knew him well enough not to construe it that way. “I’ll get you something.”

As he walked to his bunk, he vaguely noticed her following him and registered that there wasn’t really any place to get sedatives that way, but he couldn’t bring himself to care.

He collapsed onto the bed, not bothering to remove any part of his suit save for his utility belt. Even in his current state, he realized rolling over in his sleep and activating poison gas was to be avoided. Diana (or somebody with footsteps very similar to hers, he didn’t have the energy to open his eyes) soon brought him a glass of water and some pills.

The sedatives took a bit longer to kick in than they should have. He must have built up more of a resistance since he stocked the Watchtower. One moment he was blearily thinking to himself that he’d have to restock with some stronger stuff, the next he was awake again, comm buzzing in his ear. There wasn’t a voice, or any words, just the buzz and tone meant to prompt a response.

He reached up to activate his mic and said, “This is Batman. Status report.”

“They’re back,” said Diana.

The memories came crashing back down on Bruce. He quickly rose to his feet and hurried out of the room, mind clear and racing. “How is he?” he asked the comm as he raced toward the medbay. He didn’t need to specify who he was talking about.

“Still unconscious,” she reported. “J’onn sensed him from miles away, literally.”

Bruce came to a stop, not trusting himself to be able to run safely while he digested the news. “Phoenix?” he grunted, unable to force anything else out.

“We don’t know for certain,” said Diana carefully. “But J’onn said it was the most likely option. He’s on the other side of the planet right now to recover. Once he feels better, he’ll come back and take another look.”

Bruce took a deep breath and kept walking. He wouldn’t let himself get overwhelmed here, where anybody could walk by and see him. He preferred to have some privacy for his emotional meltdowns.

It felt like he walked a mile before he arrived at the medbay. His first instinct was to throw the doors open as he swept in, but luckily he remembered that the doors slid open at the press of a button before he tried it. He opened the door and scanned the room for any sign of Jason. He couldn’t see him, but he _could_ see curtains drawn around one bed. He made a beeline for it, steps silent, and pulled the curtains open just as quietly.

Sure enough, there was Jason, lying on the bed. The reason for the curtain was most likely that his face was completely uncovered, and it was the standard protocol when it came to secret identities, even if it was a little useless in this situation because his bare face had just been broadcasted for the universe to see. His shirt and jacket were draped over the back of a chair, most likely so somebody could get a better view of his gunshot wound, and his boots were on the floor nearby, most likely for his own comfort. The most likely perpetrators were Arsenal and Starfire, who were sitting in chairs on either side of his bed, staring at him with expressions that held nearly as many conflicting emotions as Bruce was feeling.

"What happened?" he asked.

Roy and Starfire jumped in their seats, apparently not having heard his approach.

"I swear to God, one of these days I'm petitioning the League to put a bell on all of you," Arsenal grumbled, rubbing at his chest as if to check he wasn't having a heart attack.

Starfire ignored him. “What do you know?” she asked.

Bruce made sure not to think about his words as he said, “He died and came back, most likely via the Phoenix Force.”

“Is that not enough information?” Starfire snapped.

“No, it’s not.” Some part of Bruce knew that his next words would be cruel, and better suited for a time when the adrenaline and emotions had faded, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. “First of all, I would like to know how he died on your watch.”

He almost expected Jason to wake up at that and berate him for saying something so insensitive. He didn’t. All that happened was Roy flinching as if struck, and Starfire’s jaw clenching and eyes narrowing.

“We did what we could,” she said coldly, even as the flames at the ends of her hair blazed brighter. “To be frank, I doubt you would have done much better.”

Roy hissed something to her, but Bruce couldn’t hear it over the pounding of his heart in his ears. Once it had faded, he growled, “I’ll be the judge of that. I need more details.”

Starfire rose to her feet, levitating slightly in her anger so that she towered over him. “We do not need your judgement. The details can wait until we write one of those reports you are so obsessed with. You do not need them now. I do not know why you would even want them. Do you _enjoy_ imagining your children getting hurt?”

Of course Bruce didn’t enjoy that.. How could she think that?

_Then why do you want to get the details you need to run it through your head over and over? How many times did you read Jason’s autopsy report? What good has it done you? What good has it done anyone?_

He ignored that train of thought completely. “It’s important for those reports to be written as soon as possible, before any memories fade. We cannot learn from our mistakes if we do not record them for future review.”

Starfire clenched her fists, clearly considering throwing some starbolts at him.

“Can we not?” Arsenal’s voice was quiet, but it cut through the tension like a knife. Bruce looked over at him, and it finally registered just how exhausted he looked. Looking closely, he could see dried blood staining the red of his suit, and judging by the lack of bandages it probably wasn’t his.

Starfire noticed, too, flames dying down as she floated back down to the floor.

Arsenal rubbed at his face for a moment before saying, “They said they’re gonna do some tests. Brain scans and stuff. We should probably head out before then. I could use something to eat.”

“I shall go with you,” said Starfire. She shot Bruce one last glare as she and Arsenal left the room - or, to be more precise, she stormed and he stumbled out of the room.

It was just Bruce and Jason, now. Or Bruce, Jason, and the Phoenix Force. Or, as much as he hated to even think of it, just Bruce and the Phoenix Force inside Jason’s body.

Bruce sat down in one of the vacated chairs and analyzed Jason’s face for any trace of him not being himself. Unsurprisingly, he found none. He looked the same way he always did when he was unconscious - younger and more at peace than he ever seemed when awake. Of its own volition, Bruce’s hand reached over to brush his hair back from his face. It didn’t look like he’d showered at all since he’d been captured, or spent much time in the sun if his complexion wasn’t just due to blood loss.

Bruce didn’t know how long he sat there, watching the rise and fall of Jason’s chest to remind himself that he was alive. Eventually, some medical personnel came in to take him to get his scans. Bruce continued to stare at the empty bed for a while until he finally mustered the energy to get up and try to do something productive.

He called Alfred to deliver the news. Apparently, Clark had already called the Batcave while Bruce was sitting around and done it himself. It was probably for the best, especially considering how quickly the call turned into Alfred offering reassurances while Bruce tried not to cry.

Eventually he got tracked down by one of the doctors, who started the conversation off on the right foot by telling him to sit down.

“I’m afraid there is no precedent I know of for this,” she said, staring down at her clipboard as if she still couldn’t quite believe the results. “Our scans suggest he’s in a prolonged generalized seizure. He is losing brain cells at an alarming rate, but something is repairing the damage as soon as it is done. My best guess is that he’s suffering from some sort of psychic feedback loop. His powers are repairing the damage, but the overload from using his powers is causing even more damage, which requires more repairing, which causes more overload.”

“Is there any way to stop it?” Bruce asked, trying (and likely failing) to keep his voice calm and level.

“None that we know of,” the doctor replied, with an understanding but still professional tone. “We contacted Martian Manhunter for advice, and he said to wait until he returns for a more thorough telepathic scan.”

So Bruce waited.

Eventually, after much pacing, attempted review of reports, and avoidance of anyone trying to talk to him, J’onn’s voice came over the comm.

“I attempted to read Red Hood’s mind,” he said with no preamble.

“And?” Bruce growled past the lump in his throat.

“I believe the Phoenix Force is still with him, and I believe the best solution is to wait until he wakes up.”

Bruce took a deep breath before he started screaming. He still couldn’t stop himself from snarling, “That isn’t a solution. That’s a hope. We don’t need hope, we need a plan.”

“It is an informed guess,” J’onn corrected calmly. “What I am sensing from Hood’s mind is incredibly similar to what he experienced when the Phoenix Force first resurrected and possessed him. My hypothesis is that his brain has grown unaccustomed to its presence, and requires time to adjust.”

Bruce should have known better than to have any hope that J’onn would have anything good to say. “It took him months to adjust last time. Are you telling me to just-”

J’onn interrupted him. “I do not believe it will take that long this time. His mind has already adjusted, it should simply need a little time to snap back into position, so to speak.”

Bruce took another deep breath. That made sense. He shouldn’t allow his fears and worries to overwhelm him. But he couldn’t let himself hope too much, either.

He shook his head and shoved his feelings aside. He didn’t have time for them. He needed to plan. He needed to talk with Alfred, see if it was feasible to bring Jason home and wait for him to wake up there. If he woke up with powers, it’d be better for him to wake up in a familiar, safe place. If the Phoenix woke up, it seemed like it would be less likely to cause too much damage to a place that was important to Jason. Oh, and he’d need to talk with the kids, apologize to Starfire, make himself seen around the Watchtower as his usual self to make sure nobody thought anything was amiss, catch up on patrol…

He had a million useful things to do. Sitting by Jason’s bedside staring at him was not one of them. He spent most of his time until they transferred him doing it anyway.


	18. Rubbing the Sleep and Stars From My Eyes

Jason woke up with a white-hot headache.

He groaned and rubbed at his forehead. Had he overextended his powers again? He couldn’t remember the Phoenix Force dragging him down for a chat. Then again, it wasn’t like messing with his memories had ever bothered it.

“Jason?”

Bruce’s voice and thoughts washed over him like a tidal wave. Worry, relief, fear, hope, all tangled together in knots that only wound tighter the more anyone tried to pull them apart.

Jason blearily blinked his eyes open. He seemed to be in his bed, back at the manor, with Bruce sitting in a chair by his side. Not too weird of an occurrence, especially the part where Jason couldn’t remember how he got there. Bruce’s thoughts were no help either. In fact, ‘thoughts’ was probably too nice a word for the formless, wriggling mass of emotions that was Bruce’s brain right now.

Bruce cautiously reached a hand towards him, like he was afraid he’d lash out and bite him if he got too close. “Are you… all right?”

Jason raised an eyebrow while Bruce slowly petted his hair like he was a stray cat that might still bite him any second. “Well, I’m here and I don’t remember why, and my head’s killing me, so probably not.”

Bruce’s hand stilled, his face went blank, and his mind screamed with both relief and dread. “You don’t remember what happened?”

Jason frowned and tried to scour his memories. He was… with Roy and Kori, right? They were trying to… Wait, no, Jason got abducted by aliens, right? They wanted to kill him because of what he and the Phoenix did, and…

And Jason wasn’t supposed to have powers anymore.

He sat bolt upright, barely hearing the sound of wood splintering and glass shattering over the sound of his own panicked breathing. He wasn’t supposed to have powers anymore, it was supposed to be over, the Phoenix was supposed to be gone forever, he was supposed to be able to get upset without hurting anyone, he wasn’t -

Bruce was hugging him, clutching him tightly like he’d fly away if Bruce didn’t hold him down. “Breathe,” he murmured soothingly into Jason’s ear.

It was a little hypocritical, considering how much fear and panic was coming off of him, but there was hope, too, and relief, and love, so Jason tried. He copied Bruce’s breathing. In, hold, out, hold. In, hold, out, hold.

Eventually, he felt calm enough to pull back and look around the room. It… wasn’t good. There were only a few jagged pieces of glass left at the edges of the window, the bedside table was little more than a mound of splinters, and those were definitely cracks in the walls and ceiling.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered, burying his face in Bruce’s shoulder.  _ Fuck,  _ this wasn’t supposed to be happening, this wasn’t…

“It’s all right,” Bruce assured him. “We’ll figure this out.”

There wasn’t any doubt in his voice or thoughts, but Jason could tell that was because he’d locked it all away in a box in his head, thrown away the key, and refused to acknowledge it had ever existed until it grew large too large for its restraints. And it  _ would  _ grow too large. Kinda hard not to feel doubts about someone regaining the powers he once used to try and brainwash the entire universe.

How did this happen? Unpleasant as it was, he should figure that out. Delve into those memories. He’d been captured for execution. His neck was literally on the chopping block when Kori swooped in to the rescue. Except she wasn’t very successful, was she? He got shot anyway. Right through the heart, probably on live TV. And then he died. Not even with any dignity. You’d think after all those times he’d died he’d be better at it, but no, if he’d had the energy, he would’ve been blubbering like a baby and begging every higher power he could think of to save him. Wait… no, he  _ had  _ begged one very specific higher power to save him.

Fuck.  _ Fuck.  _ He’d literally  _ asked  _ for this. He’d been stupid enough to ask, and the Phoenix had been stupid enough to answer.

He closed his eyes and delved deep into his brain, seeking out the White Hot Room so he could give that stupid space bird a piece of his mind, useless as it was when the Phoenix constantly had access to the entirety of his mind and already knew everything he was going to say. Then again, being able to read his every thought hadn’t seemed to help it much when it came to figuring out how he’d respond. He guessed expecting that was like expecting a toddler to be able to read a textbook on quantum mechanics and understand it. All the more reason for the Phoenix Force to leave him and the rest of humanity the fuck alone.

He was getting close. His vision was going white, ears were filling with static, skin was getting hot, and it all hurt, but he had to put up with it, he had to talk to the Phoenix and get it to leave and -

“Jason?”

He rose back up to the surface and blinked. Bruce had pulled away from him, one hand holding onto his arm to stop him from falling back down and one at the back of his head to stop it from lolling too much.

Bruce let out a sigh of relief when he noticed Jason was paying attention again. “Your nose is bleeding,” he said.

Jason reached up to check, and sure enough he saw blood on his fingers. “Huh,” he said, head pounding with a renewed, even hotter headache. “Guess the Phoenix didn’t feel like talking.”

Bruce’s face went blank again, and the feeling of dread overwhelmed his relief. “Is it… still with you?”

Jason shrugged and gestured to the destruction. “I mean, I’ve got powers again, so…”

“That isn’t a guarantee,” said Bruce, voice and expression and mind slipping into Batman mode. “There is the possibility that this is something masquerading as the Phoenix Force, or the Phoenix granted you powers but isn’t possessing you, or-”

Jason winced at the deluge of wild theories pouring in from Bruce’s mind. “Bruce, shut up,” he hissed.

Bruce snapped his mouth shut, but his thoughts kept going a lightyear a minute.

Jason glared at him. “No, I mean shut up internally, too.”

It took Bruce a second to understand what he meant. Once he did, he immediately began doing some anti-telepathy techniques, and things quieted down.

Jason sighed and leaned back. He wanted to just hide under the covers until the world was a little less painful. Judging by his headache, that wouldn’t be for quite a while. Good thing he still had the IV in. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to eat for a while without throwing up.

Bruce released his hold on him, allowing Jason to properly burrow as deep as he could without pulling the IV out. “Would you prefer to be alone, or have visitors?” he asked.

Now that Bruce was quiet and he could try to relax, Jason could hear the thoughts of everyone else in the manor, too. They were all worried and anxious, too. Even Damian. Jason had been able to block it out before, right? Why couldn’t he remember how he did it?

“Unless everyone in this house starts using those psychic defense techniques, it’s not gonna make much difference,” he grumbled.

“That’s not an answer,” said Bruce. “The others would like to see you, but if you aren’t prepared to see them, you don’t have to.”

Jason poked his head out from under the blankets to make sure Bruce saw his pout. “I’m prepared to grunt and glare at them. Maybe a few monosyllabic answers if I’m feeling generous. That’s about it.”

Bruce darted his hand out and ruffled Jason’s hair before he could dodge. “I think they’ll be all right with that.”

Jason burrowed back down with a scoff. Like he couldn’t already tell that they’d - Wait, was that Cass? That mind definitely felt very dolphin-like in its lack of language. When did she get back? And were those Roy and Kori? What were they doing here?

Maybe he fell asleep again, or maybe he was just too focused on minds farther away, but the next thing he knew there was a knock on the door and Alfred - worried, loving, wonderful Alfred - was right there.

The door creaked open, and judging by Alfred’s palpable surprise it must have been because of Jason’s powers. Fuck, he’d forgotten how it felt to be afraid of every subconscious urge being made real.

Alfred spent a little bit more time surprised by the state of the room, but he got over it quickly and walked in. “Hello, Master Jason,” he said. “Your bedside table seems in no state to carry anything, so I shall put this down here.”

Jason felt two objects be placed near the edge of the bed. Through Alfred’s eyes, he saw that they were a full water bottle and a box of crackers. The sort of stuff he was least likely to throw right back up. Jason emerged from the blankets and reached toward them.

“First, however,” said Alfred in a tone that froze Jason in his tracks. “We should remove your IV and take your temperature.”

“Spoiler alert, my temperature’s going to be exactly what it’s supposed to be,” said Jason as he yanked the IV out. He stared at the drop of blood that followed the needle out while Alfred pulled out the thermometer. The wound didn’t miraculously heal itself before his eyes. Why couldn’t he ever be conscious when all the cool healing happened?

Alfred held the thermometer in front of Jason’s lips. He obediently opened and held it under his tongue while Afred put a band-aid on his hand where the IV had been. His expression was perfectly Britishly neutral, and his hands didn’t shake, but Jason could feel the wave of emotions pouring out of him nearly as intensely as Bruce’s had.

Jason yanked his hand back and averted his eyes, scouring his memories for how to block it all out. Reading the stray thoughts of strangers he’d never meet again was one thing. Reading the inner thoughts of someone he  _ knew  _ was very careful about expressing himself was something else entirely.

“I’m sorry,” he said, accidentally letting the thermometer drop out of his mouth.

Alfred’s confusion and worry grew. “For what, Master Jason?”

“For invading your privacy and reading your mind without permission. I don’t want to, I just can’t remember how to stop it. I’ll figure it out as fast as I can.”

He let out a sigh of relief as Alfred began using some defensive tactics. “There is no need to apologize for something you cannot control,” he said, taking Jason’s hand again so he could finish with the band-aid. “Everyone currently in this house understands that their thoughts may not be entirely their own for the foreseeable future. Considering how insightful you can be, I, for one, do not believe it makes much difference.”

Jason let his head fall back on the pillow and closed his eyes. “Trust me. It’s a big difference.”

He felt the tip of the thermometer press against his lips again. “Please hold it under your tongue until it beeps, Master Jason,” said Alfred.

Jason did so, probably biting down on the thermometer harder than necessary as he tried to defend his eyes from the tears laying siege to escape.

It beeped, and Alfred pulled it out. “Ninety-seven point five degrees Fahrenheit,” he noted. “The textbook average body temperature.”

Jason smirked, though he still kept his eyes shut. “What can I say? I studied for the test.”

“You always were good at that, unlike certain others I could name,” said Alfred airily.

Jason opened his eyes so he could  _ really  _ smirk. “Yeah, I’ve seen Dickiebird’s report cards. He’s real lucky he grew up pretty enough to skate by on his looks.”

“In ordinary families, a handful of C’s amongst A’s and B’s throughout a child’s entire academic record would be cause for celebration, you know,,” said Alfred, putting the thermometer back in the first aid kit. “And I was actually referring to Master Tim.”

Jason sat back up. “Are you shitting me? Perfect genius Tim never studied for - No, actually, never mind. That makes complete sense. I guess every family needs the gifted kid that never learned how to work for achievements and grew up to be a depressed perfectionist.”

Alfred sighed in a way that made it clear he would argue, but knew it would be pointless because he always won every argument and it was easier for everybody if he just sighed and made the other person realize they were wrong.

Jason rolled his eyes in a way that made it clear he did not, in fact, realize that he was wrong, but did not have the desire and/or energy to argue about it.

“I shall leave you to your rest,” said Alfred. “Please try to eat or drink something. Would you like any more visitors?”

Jason shrugged. “If I wouldn’t like it, would that stop them?”

“No. But I would, if you wished.”

Jason thought it over. On the one hand, not having people flinging themselves on top of him and weeping was pretty nice. On the other, he could feel the news of his awakening spreading through the house, bringing almost suffocating anxiety to see him for themselves in its wake. It was going to be a bad time no matter what. Might as well go with the option that was a bad time for as few people as possible - in this case, himself.

Still, no need to go all in all at once. “Send Cass first,” he decided. Between his telepathy and her body-reading, they might be able to get away with not talking out loud at all, which sounded really great right now.

Alfred nodded in understanding and left. Jason took a sip of water and ate half a cracker. After that, he burrowed back down beneath the blankets and tried not to throw up by focusing on vicariously listening to classical music (Chopin, he was fairly certain) through Damian’s ears. Luckily, Damian was also trying very hard to focus solely on the music, and mostly succeeding. Mostly.

It was quite the relief when Cass got close enough for her thoughts to drown out the others, for the most part. She paused in the doorway to give him a good once-over. As she did so, Jason felt the telepathic equivalent of hearing his own voice in recordings. It was honestly a little unnerving seeing all the things he was feeling laid bare in someone else’s mind. It also cemented his belief that everyone in the manor must be crazy to be willing to let someone see their inner workings so transparently.

She gave off a wordless sense of understanding (she wasn’t used to the reading going both ways, either) as she walked over to the bed. Then she had a question-shaped thought and the image of her lying next to him on the bed. He nodded, and she happily hopped up and curled into his side. He instinctively tensed until he realized he had no reason to. He was literally reading Cass’s mind in real time. If she was going to hurt him, he’d know. She didn’t want to hurt him. She just wanted to make him feel better, and she knew that he trusted her enough to let her this close.

She had a thought shaped like,  _ Do you want to watch TV? _

Jason nodded, grateful he’d let himself be talked into staying in a room with a big wall-mounted TV even though the decadence of it all made him want to dry heave. He looked around for the remote, and was very confused about why he couldn’t see it until he spotted some batteries and fragmented plastic amongst the wreckage of his bedside table.

“Fuck it,” he muttered, willing the power button on the TV to depress as gently as his telekinesis could manage. The force still shook the TV, but it stayed on the wall and turned on without any issue. It also made his headache worse, so he closed his eyes and didn’t really take in anything anyone on the show was saying. Cass did her best to pay attention to the storyline and keep him in the loop, but she was constantly distracted by the stuff she picked up from the actors’ body language. The cast drama she telepathically relaid to him was entertaining enough, though, so he didn’t really mind.

Of course, just when he was starting to kind of enjoy himself, Dickface decided to stroll on in and look in at them like a stray puppy looking through a window at a happy family dinner.

“Hi, Dick,” said Cass between bites of one of Jason’s crackers

“Hey,” said Dick, still standing there. A quick (accidental) peek in his head showed that this deer in the headlights impression was the result of him being torn between running over and joining the hugs and crying all over Jason and apologizing until things felt better, or playing it cool and making jokes and pretending nothing bad had ever happened.

Jason sighed and held his arms open. “You get one hug. Five seconds max.”

Dick practically teleported across the room to hug him. The outpouring of relief and love from his mind threw Jason off his countdown, so the hug probably lasted more like ten seconds before he finally pushed Dick away.

He wiped away a few tears and smiled down at Jason like… fuck, Jason didn’t have the energy to come up with a good simile. All he could say was that it was  _ very  _ fitting for the next words that came out of Dick’s mouth. “You know I love you, right?”

Jason rolled his eyes and tapped his temple. "Kinda hard not to. You're practically oozing with love, it's really annoying."

“As your brother, it is my sworn duty to annoy you.” The disgustingly saccharine smile stretched into a devilish grin. “Speaking of which, I’ve got a hankering for a Hobbit movie marathon, and this TV looks perfect for it.”

Jason looked to Cass for backup, and found only amusement. He turned back to Dick and growled, “If you besmirch that TV with such filth, I don’t care how bad a headache it gives me, I am ripping it off the wall, tossing it out the window, and launching it into orbit.”

Dick sighed. “Right. Superpowers. Forgot about that.”

Jason stared at him incredulously. “I just mentioned having telepathy, how did you forget about the telekinesis part?”

“It’s just gonna take some getting used to, all right? I need to step up my game to properly annoy you.”

“Trust me, you’re already doing a great job,” Jason grumbled. He just barely suppressed the urge to also grumble,  _ And if anyone needs to get used to me having powers again, it’s me. _

“Dick,” said Cass in a warning tone.

Dick glanced between her and Jason, and understanding bloomed in his expression and mind, along with a bit of guilt. “Too much?”

“Soon,” said Cass, and shit, she was right. When Jason actually thought about it, he  _ was  _ starting to feel a little overwhelmed and on the cusp of more accidental telekinetic smashing. He’d really need to get a better handle on recognizing how he was feeling. No more living in blissful, purposeful ignorance of how shitty he felt. Ugh.

“All right.” Dick ruffled his hair (did this family have no other method of showing affection?), along with Cass’s. “Let us know when you’re ready for some more family time, okay? Or friend time. Kori and Roy are getting pretty stir-crazy.”

Friend time should be easier, right? Less pre-existing feelings and guilt and whatever. Then again, his family hadn’t been the ones that watched him die and probably felt responsible for it. So, on second thought, no, friend time would not be any easier. But it still had to be done, if only so Kori didn’t burn the manor down and Roy could go back to Lian.

It didn’t have to be done right away, though, so Jason just burrowed back down into his blankets and said, “Will do.”

It took another few episodes of Actors Who Had a Nasty Break-Up Back In Season Two Try to Pretend To Be A Happy Married Couple While the Dude Is Now Banging the Teacher’s Actress, and a little cuddling from Cass that he would never admit to, for him to feel ready for more human interaction. Well, interaction that required actual words, anyway.

He did a quick scan of the manor and, as suspected, found that Roy and Kori were the most worked up and anxious to see him again. As gently as he could, he brushed against Roy’s mind and broadcasted,  _ If you wanna talk, come in. Bring more crackers, Cass is eating all of mine. _

He tried to sever the connection, and kind of succeeded. At least, he wasn’t actively focusing on Roy’s thoughts anymore. He should probably give J’onn a call and get some telepathic tutoring. And telekinetic, while he was at it. The last time he’d gotten actual training was with Grodd and, well… Statistically speaking, it was unlikely for any lessons to go as badly as they did back then.

Roy and Kori arrived pretty quick, crackers in hand. Jason extricated himself from Cass’s hold before calling out, “Come in!”

They did so, pausing to take in the destruction. Roy let out a slightly hysterical laugh and said, “I see the adjustment period is going great.”

“I didn’t demolish the whole house, so, yeah, I am actually doing pretty great,” said Jason, holding out a hand for the crackers.

Roy approached and handed them over. Kori floated behind him and gave a nod to Cass. “Hello, Cassandra.” She turned her attention to Jason, her expression a mixture of suspicion and relief. “How are you feeling?”

Jason took another sip of water before speaking. “My brain feels like it’s on fire, the thing that helped me destroy an entire universe is back, and I forgot how to block out people’s thoughts, so… pretty shit.”

Of course, both their thoughts immediately flew to the sort of shit they didn’t want him to notice, which was as funny an instinct as it was counterintuitive. In this case, however, Jason did not find what he saw to be very funny.

“You fucked while I was on death row?” The words came out a lot louder than intended, but whatever, they deserved it.

Cass wisely decided this was not the time for cuddles and quietly slipped out of the room while Roy and Kori opened and closed their mouths as they tried to come up with an explanation.

Kori found her words first. “I feel that I should know your feelings regarding pre-marital sex before I answer.”

Jason once again felt his expression morph into one of incredulousness. “I don’t give a shit about if you’re married or not, my problem is that I was locked in a dark room waiting for death and  _ that  _ was your immediate reaction!”

“Hey, it wasn’t our  _ immediate  _ reaction!” said Roy defensively. “We were on standby and… had a lot of energy to burn.”

Jason let his head fall back against the pillow and rubbed at his eyes, as if it would erase the images now seared in his brain. “Fine, whatever, just please stop thinking about it.”

They tried. He could tell they tried. But actively trying not to think about something took a lot of practice, and they weren’t quite emotionally stunted enough to be as skilled as Jason.

He sighed. “Do you guys wanna watch a movie or something to distract you?”

“Yes, please,” said Roy, plopping himself down on the bed next to Jason. “What’ve you got?”

“No idea,” said Jason. “I kinda smashed the remote, and I think I’ll smash the TV too if I try to telekinetically change the channel, so I guess we’re stuck with… whatever this is.”

Right on cue, a particularly cringeworthy gag popped up in the show that wasn’t funny no matter how hard the laugh-track tried to make up for it.

“Is it… supposed to be funny?” Kori asked, confused.

“According to executives and focus groups, yes,” said Roy, grabbing one of Jason’s crackers. “Come on, it’ll be fun. We can find fun in how unfunny it is.”

Kori still seemed confused, but she did sit down in Bruce’s chair and watch the show.

Jason watched for about two minutes before he had to close his eyes to prevent his headache from reaching literal skull-cracking levels. He wouldn’t put that past his powers, especially when he was so out of practice. He followed along as best he could through Kori and Roy’s eyes, and eventually the nonsensical storylines and jokes that fell so flat they became two-dimensional lulled him to sleep. 


End file.
